Coitus Interruptus

Being 18 is not so easy for me. I am recently graduated from high school. I still have zero idea what I want to do in life. And way too much angst. It all seems to come from nowhere. I hate being so physically big yet feeling so intellectually small and unwise. "Dumb," as my father would say. "Troy, you are big and dumb. Son, if you don't go to college you are gonna die in the Army from stepping on your own land mine."

But the military is not in my future. Not yet anyway. This autumn I am headed to a small college on a football scholarship. I just hope the classes aren't too hard. I literally hated every subject in high school. Nothing spoke to me. Nothing. I just sat there wishing I was on the football field tackling someone. Or on the track team throwing heavy things. Sigh. Well if I can't get in the NFL  I guess I'll be a gym teacher.  I don't want to die in the Middle East. And at least I would get the Summers off. 

I feel as a "big dude" I can never show my sensitive side. Most people would think I don't even have one. That makes me feel so used. But I do have a sensitive side. And when it gets abused I feel like I need to hit people. Sometimes I do hit people. But then I get in REAL TROUBLE. Police trouble. So I suppress this vulnerable side at all costs. This gives rise to my egotistical side. My egotistical side unfortunately needs a constant supply of fresh young pussy to help it feel important and loved. But that's not easy either. Fuck life. 

High school teachers would say that we are the hope for the world and all that shit. They don't believe it though. They are just quoting that hot pop star Whitney Houston. I hate the mediatized Whitney Houston. I wish I could meet the real hood rat Whitney Houston. I might even get to do coke with her and beat up Bobby Brown. 

How can she sing Children are the future? She probably just does it for the money. Are children really the future?  I am not so optimistic. To tell you the truth, most children will probably grow up to be wussy liberal assholes and honestly I feel my best when I make other people upset. And that's just me being real.

To make up for the lack of meaning in my life, I shotgun beers and snort the occasional line of crystal I can get my hands on. It's better than coke I think. At least the coke we get in Ohio. Getting alcohol is easy but good drugs is not so easy in the suburbs. Scoring anything stronger than Mexican brick weed is a challenge. 

 Despite my youth and bulky athleticism I am currently available. I need to start looking outside of town for some new pussy. I had a hot girlfriend... 17, blonde, sexy sweet. Her name was Heather. I know what you are thinking... yes you fucker. You are thinking that is a made up name. Well actually no, it isn't. Well I guess it is actually but I did really have a hot girlfriend with a hot name. But I am at a total loss to explain what happened. It was the first time a girl not wanting to hang out actually bothered me. I think I might really be maturing. Dating anybody else so soon in this town would be a rebound — a cheap substitute. I need someone even more exotic. Or better yet I need to get her back. But she is already dating another guy! I could kill him. I would if I could, I mean. If I could get away with it.

 I am not making this shit up. Heather (not her real name for legal reasons) is 5 foot 10 inches tall with no zits. She is a cheerleader who likes to party and fuck. I am 6 foot 7 inches tall and 255 pounds. I am a tight end on the varsity football team. We seemed like a good match. Sometimes I lay awake thinking about her pussy for hours. When I jerk off my load almosts hit the ceiling. No shit. I even got some in my eye. That's how much I loved her! Anyway, last season I caught a pass that put us into Districts for the first time in 5 years. I felt like a hero. But I was a virgin. This story is about me losing my favourite girlfriend and then being jealous. But it's funny I swear and has a happy ending.

 Fall of Senior year I had gotten plenty of blowjobs from her but we never went "all the way". So I was super stoked that after the game Heather said she would let me fuck her if we won and I got her wine coolers. Well we won but i could only get rum and Coke. So she really didn't want to fuck me. But I kind of fucked her anyway. I know it was wrong, but it seemed like the right decision at the time. I don't want us to die virgins, you know. Someone had to take action. 

She was scared I got her pregnant but I told her I pulled out in time. She told me that "coitus interruptus" was not a real birth control method. I told her I failed French and she should just get an abortion. She cried and walked home. But we fucked the next day after I got her wine coolers. And every day that week until the next game. I was exhausted to be honest.

Anyway, the next football game we got creamed by Akron. Then we lost again in the first round of the playoffs. I played my hardest but we could not compete. They had buffer guys than us... some of them even going on to play for Ohio State. So we didn't really stand a chance. After our season was over I finally realized that all I really had was Heather. 

So after the loss I was of course expecting more sex. I called her but due to all the pressure of the game I never checked my phone messages. Apparently days earlier Heather broke up with me. Over the telephone answering machine. I didn't even get the message for 3 days. And the breakup was for absolutely no reason. At all. Yes. It was just a tearful telephone call and a lame explanation that it was "her and not me". So typical of a girl. They are so weak-minded.

It reminded me of a story when we first started going out. You see Heather's old boyfriend Arthur used to follow us on our dates. Once we went to see a movie. When we came out he had left a love letter for her under my windshield wiper.  At first I was upset, but I decided not to hunt him down and  beat him up. Probably because of his lonely, lost soul expression. He was like a poet or half-fag or something. 

But Heather just laughed. She would drink and read the love letters to me aloud as I drove back into town, laughing. Then when I dropped her off I got a big slurping blowjob. I love those. I can still remember the saliva and exaggerated gagging sounds. And the tingly star feeling in my belly as I shot my load into her innocent teenaged throat. I vividly  remember wishing that all the other cars could see her sucking and slobbering over my dick as well. And especially the poet kid. Everyone should have seen and heard that. Even my mom and Dad. Even my teachers. They would have loved that shit. I know I did. Anyway.

Anyway, since Heather broke up with me I needed a rebound quickly and found a new girlfriend... a 15 year old freshman named Sharon Hammer. Some people say she's retarded but she's really not. Not at all. She's just a little deaf in one ear. And boy does she love to fuck. I don't even have to force her.  Afterwards we normally get hamburgers and milkshakes. Then I take her up in the woods for another long, slow one before returning her home to her parents.

The last time I did this she wanted a kiss. But I told her this was the last time I would ever see her. Unless I was really horny or lonely. I told her I needed to find a real girlfriend more becoming of me. An older and hotter one like Heather again. She cried. So I guess that was the wrong thing to say.

Anyway, again.. I don't want to sound like a teen movie cliché, but it was now Summertime and not the ideal moment to be dateless. I had just lost my virginity half a year ago and my fucking dick was at its sexual peak and needed some hot female attention. But all the girls I knew who were hotties were either already taken or didn't date guys like me who played football and just wanted to fuck them all the time. 

 When I was fucking Heather or Sharon and staring into their wincing eyes it was almost like everything was okay. I didn't have that uneasy feeling I normally carry with me. I don't know why God made fucking like that... sort of like a temporary answer for everything. Maybe it's because without that feeling there would be no new babies in this world. People would commit genocide on themselves. In short, there would be no good reason to go on.

 I had almost forgiven and forgotten Heather when I heard she got a new boyfriend, this soccer kid named Jacob Keckman. Not surprisingly I got immediately jealous. I wondered if Heather's new boyfriend felt the same way that I did when he was fucking her. He must. All men probably have the same feelings deep down inside. Even Jacob Keckman.

 To make matters worse, while Jacob is fucking Heather he might be thinking of me and laughing the same way that I thought of that poet kid Arthur and laughed when I was fucking Heather. That didn't seem right for him to be laughing at me like that. He didn't even know me, the prick. 

 I think most soccer players would probably give up a gonad or two to play a man's game. It's clear that soccer was made for women to play. Women are the ones who are always kicking during a fight. And pulling hair. And scratching. From what Coach says... all the manly Europeans play rugby anyway... which is more like a real sport... you know... using your hands and stuff. I wonder if Jacob uses his feet when he fucks my Heather. I bet he does, the cute fuck. 

Plus Jacob Kekman is a Jew and as a Christian I don't really approve. I am not saying that Hitler was right to wipe them all out. I am just saying that it's a bit inconsiderate of people like Jacob's family to move to a free country like the USA and then practice an alternative religion like that. If they don't believe in Jesus they could at least be quiet about it. 

 These thoughts aside, it suddenly dawned on me that if I couldn't be fucking Heather than nobody else should be fucking her either. Especially not that soccer faggot Jacob Kekman. Then a nasty little seed of an idea sprouted in my mind. I even thought of a way I could make it happen. I could get revenge and prevent his "pork-free" Hebrew penis from entering my favorite blond Gentile pussy. I might even get Jacob in trouble with Heather's parents. Maybe even get him suspended. It might make Heather desperate to return to the social stability I had given her. But is there such a thing as going too far, even to accomplish a worthwhile end? Probably not.

 There are strict laws for underage drinking. Even though everyone does it. And drinking plus taking ecstasy... well that's just about the most illegal thing that could happen to anyone under 21. Heather's folks were really strict... and I bet they had no idea of their daughter's thirst for kosher specimens of spermatozoa. And even if being a Jew isn't as bad as it used to be, they would really change their tune once he was exposed as an ecstasy dealer. Her father was a linebacker for the Buckeyes for christ sake!

 Then one fateful Saturday afternoon while I was hanging out with my mate Ricky Forrester the plan came into fruition. Ricky was not a football player. But he was a first-string shortstop on the varsity baseball team. And baseball players can be pretty sharp compared to football players especially linemen. Anyway, we were at the park dipping tobacco and deciding which house party to attend. 

 "Should we go to Moe's?" questioned the Rickster, "I hear there is gonna be lots of freshmen pussy there."

 "No. I can't be bothered with freshman poontang. I need something more exotic. Let's drive out to Lake Erie to my cousins' house.  They know some rather easy Indiana corn-fed pussy."

 "Indiana? That's too far. Corn fed? What are they cows? Sorry but I gotta be back tomorrow to mow the lawn. I've been putting it off for ages and I promised my stepdad."

 ‘Mow the lawn? Instead of getting laid? Are you even fucking serious right now?"

 "Well that's the price of living in suburbia. I need my allowance and no way am I getting a job serving fast food."

 "What about going over to Nelson's then", I asked.

 "No way..." replied the Rickster waiving his arms. "Heather and Jacob are gonna be there. Are you sure you want to put yourself through that torture?"

"What," I exclaimed. "How do you know they're gonna be there?"

 "I saw Jimmy at the Mall getting a pretzel at the Food Court. He said so. They are having a blow out. All the cool rich kids are gonna be there. They're even gonna have a deejay there from Detroit." 

 "Detroit? That shit-hole", I thought aloud. "What's so wrong with the deejays in Ohio?"

 "I don't know," said the Rickster puzzled as he shrugged his shoulders, "I think deejays in Detroit play something called acid house, not rock."

 That was the last straw for me. "No way am I going now. I am so not into that techno shit. And I can't look at the two of them together. Not now. Not ever."

 "Well look," said the Rickster, "this ain't a big town. We don't have a lot of options. Why shouldn't we go to Nelson's? This is a free country. At the Nelson party there will be a few kegs as well. Moe is a cheap sonofabitch and all his parties are BYOB. My uncle Jeff is my only beer connection and he is in Pittsburgh until next Wednesday."

 I thought about it some more. "You never know... maybe I could fight Jacob for Heather. Like in the days of chivalry."

 The Rickster talked me down. "Yeah right... like you would ever fight someone who is Jewish and dating your ex. That would make you look like a racist AND a sore loser."

 The Rickster was right. "Then I would definitely never get laid in this town again... except with the fat little freshman girls like Sharon who would bleed all over the backseat of my fucking car." 
The Rickster guffawed as the tobacco juice slid down his chin. "Huh-huh. Ouch Troy, that's brutal."

*** PART 2 ***

 After dinner that night I met up with the Rickster and we drove to the Nelson party. I parked a few blocks away, which upset him because he doesn't like to walk more than one block at any given time. But he didn't know my plan. When we got to the party we paid five bucks each to cover our share the beer. The line at the keg took 15 minutes because of the freshman football idiots running the tap. I had to sort them out. 

 "Listen up you Wedgie!" I hollered at one of them after giving them a cursory blow to the solar plexus.

 "Whassup Troy?" said the Wedgie with an air of awe and respect to be in the company of graduated football men.

 "Look Wedgie Wussenheimer... you don't have a fucking clue bro. You gotta prime the pump thing like this. And then once it starts flowing fast don't let the tap stop. Just hold it there forever... or until the keg runs out."

 "What if I have to go pee?" pleaded the freshman kid still holding his stomach.

 "Then go in your fucking pants, Wedgie!" I retorted. "Unless you want a tittie-twister!" 

 "No thanks," squealed the Wedgie obediently.

 I gave him a tittie-twister anyway and then made my way inside the party. Sure enough the androgynous prick deejay from Detroit was playing some god awful repetitive beat crap on the turntables. I asked if he had any Pink Floyd. He looked at me as if I asked him to play Barry Manilow.

 "Oh fuck off... Pink Floyd is way better than this crap," I said as I walked away.

 The deejay ignored me, the fuck. He wasn't even manly enough to play soccer. Although he probably could have been a mean Badminton player if he took off his baggy jeans and pulled his cap up over his eyes. Another faggot I wanted to kill some day. I fucking hated badminton. It's like tennis for retards.

 After a few hours the party was starting to kick my ass. Every time I went back to the keg I got my large red plastic cup refilled without waiting in line... maybe because I was on the football team, maybe because I was a senior, or maybe because the dumb Wedgie freshman kid didn't want another tittie twister. 

 After a while I was getting quite drunk... and without me even seeing her approaching... Heather walked past me with Jacob. She even gave me a smile. And so did he. A smile. The both of them looked drugged... intoxicated but hyper-alert. Ecstasy, I thought. Or meth. Only hard amphetamine drugs could make them that cool under pressure. Either that or she felt nothing for me at all. I just couldn't accept that. Suddenly I felt the urge to do some coke or meth. But I didn't have any. So I just smiled and grabbed Heather and gave her a kiss. 
 I was expecting some backlash but there wasn't any. Heather laughed and hugged me. She even told me I looked great. And as for Jacob Kekman, instead of striding right past me in typical suburban "ignore-the-ex-boyfriend" mode, he actually stopped and gave me a hug. Then he started to talk to me. He  asked me if I was excited to start college. Yes you heard right! That dickless asshole Jew tells me "good luck in college, Troy" without any trace of sarcasm or irony. His pupils were huge like flying saucers. He looked higher than the fucking sun and moon. Then the two of them  went off to dance near the deejay. 

 The two of them looked beautiful together and that was the worst part... they were a better couple than we had been. There was no doubt they were gonna dance for a few hours and then go upstairs and fuck while I was still downstairs at the party. They were going have sex on ecstasy all night and I was going home to masturbate while trying not to puke with my head on the spin cycle of drunkism.

 But I still had a better alternative to all this. I was, after all, a new generation of American ingenuity at work. People like me were the only hope for the entire planet. I could never remember his name, but this important State  Senator guy had even told us so in a school speech once in the auditorium. He said we could do fucking anything I could dream! Little did he know what my jealous little black heart could dream.

 Suddenly I let that evil thought creep back into my head. I knew there would be no going back after this one. The headlines of the Monroe Falls Dispatch would read...

 "Teenage Ecstasy Party Busted by Police – Star Soccer Player Jacob Keckman Arrested for Ecstasy Dealing"

 But wait. That is what I wanted to happen. In fact I liked those headlines. I liked them a lot. 

 So I finally found a line of some white powdery shit. I snorted it and then spent the next 2 hours talking to a titless and assless Freshman girl while watching Heather and Jacob disco dance in their socks on the large living room floor. Eventually the drugs started weakening and the beer started making me feel slow and heavy. When I saw Jacob take Heather by the hand and lead her upstairs... I got a bifg lump in my throat that would not go away.

 "Hey Rickster..." I said suddenly. "Can I borrow your cell phone?"

 "Sure dude... thank God for free minutes, eh?"

 "Yeah, whatever bro."

 I disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes and had a quick jerk thinking about my Heather. Just to wake myself up mind you. Then I made the call that would change her and Jacob's life forever.

 I returned to the party and handed the cell phone back to Rick. "Let's get out of here dude, I said, "I think this party is gonna get busted by the police."

 The Rickster looked surprised. "What makes you say that? The neighbors are away. That's the beauty of it. The police would never bust up a party unless someone called to complain."

 I confirmed the situation. "Trust me dude, the police are coming. I just called them on your cell phone, that's how I know. No way am I gonna let Heather and Jacob fuck each other up there in that bedroom if I can help it."

 The Rickster looked like a deer caught in headlights. "You busted this party... the one that we're at now?" 

 "Yeah weird huh... first time that's probably ever happened in the whole history of America. "

 "Wait... you called them... on MY cell phone? They can trace that shit you know!"

 "Yeah I know," I said slowly trying to make The Rickster relax a bit. "That's why I didn't use mine. I even said I was you in case they checked. Don't worry, they won't contact you probably. If anything, this will earn you some bonus points should you ever get in trouble. You should be thanking me... not be upset."

 "Troy, you are the biggest asshole I ever met! Let's get the fuck out of here."

 "Okay, yeah." I laughed.

 We filled up our beer cups one last time and snuck behind the bushes of a neighbor's house to watch the scene unfold. As the minutes passed The Rickster became less and less upset and started giggling more and more.

 "This is gonna be hilarious," he intimated. "So that's why you parked so far away you sneaky bastard. You planned this shit all along."
"Yeah maybe. But it's not just hilarious... it's poetic justice," I corrected him.

 Soon there were the faint sounds of sirens. My belly tingled in anticipation. Like this was the greatest thing anyone had ever done. Soon the police were there and the kids were scattering like lambs at the slaughterhouse. The cops pulled out there clubs and rounded everyone up. For many it was their first bust. I saw the Wedgie fuck get chased by a fat cop and ankle-tackled on the sidewalk.

 "That had to hurt... it just had to..." snickered the Rickster. Then came the clubbing. "He'll feel that in the morning!". Stop laughing! They're gonna hear us. But they didn't hear us of course. because we were safely in the neighbor's bushes 50 yards away.

 It was classic small town police work. The kegs were seized as evidence. The cars were impounded so nobody could drive home drunk. Then Heather came out... in her bathrobe! And Jacob came out too... in handcuffs! As a bonus the deejay got his equipment impounded and all his crappy records seized as well. He started screaming and swinging at the police until they clubbed him to the ground and arrested him as well. 

 Later reports from party-goers confirmed when the police entered the bedroom that Heather and Jacob were naked and in the actual act of copulation. A small bag of pills and marijuana were found in Jacob's jeans pockets. No more clean police record... no more faggot soccer player fucking my Heather... no more high times on contraband. I had performed the ultimate fuck you and it was 100% legal. I felt like waiving the fucking American flag... the fucking stars and stripes. I could have earned a D.A.R.E. Silver Star commendation for that shit if I would not be too embarrassed about collecting it and being labeled a fucking nark.

 "I can't believe you pulled that shit off with one phone call, Troy!"

 "Yeah, Rick," I laughed. "Maybe Heather was right. Maybe I am the master of coitus interruptus."