Street Lights - 7 - Sex Stories

Street Lights - 7

... open and find Carter, who looks like a deer caught in headlights. I immediately grab his arm and drag him out of the closet. He's not even fighting back! What the fuck kind of shit is this? “What the actual fuck are you doing here?” I calmly say to Carter. “Look.. about last night. I'm so-”, Carter tries to say before I cut him off. “Shut up. I'm over it. I wasn't down with that shit but now you know what it would be like to be in Brad's place. Asshole,” I say to Carter, who's now looking out of my window at his house. “I fucked up so bad. I'm so fucked up,” Carter says with a hint of sadness and regret. That doesn't faze me in the slightest. I'm just curious as to why he's even here. “Carter, I could care less. You are messed up. You're lucky I just ate, otherwise I'd throw you out that damn window,” I say to Carter. He looks back at me and gets up. He suddenly looks sick. “Once again, I'm sorry. I'll just go home,” Carter quietly says as he walks past me and down the hall. I don't say a word. The air is filled with silence. I walk downstairs and back into the kitchen. Everyone is looking at me. Do I look that guilty? “Was that Carter that just left though the garage,” Brad asks. “Yeah... Nothing major. Fuck him,” I say in the most nonchalant tone I can muster. Everyone takes the hint and goes back to eating. KyShea comes up ...

... behind me and hugs me with a jug of juice in one hand. I almost break down in the comfort of her arms. She doesn't know how much I needed that. I look at Brad and he has the most concerned look on his face. I walk out of the kitchen and sit on the couch by the gazebo kid. As soon I sit down, he starts to wake up. I watch him curiously. Damn, this kid is just fucking... beautiful, even waking up. “Hmph.. Damn. Where the fuck am I?” He groggily asks me. Damn his morning voice is sexy. “I'm.. uh.. Link. I had a party last night, you passed out,” I try to remind him. “Uh huh.. time..?” He asks, still not comprehending much. I look at the time on his watch. His very nice watch. “Just past noon. Hungry?” I ask, hoping he would stay. “Nah man. I gotta get home. My coach is going to kill me if I'm not at my house when he gets there later,” he informs me. “Coach?” I echo back. “Yeah.. Look, I gotta go. Maybe I'll see you around,” He says in a huff, getting up and smoothing his clothes out. I get up right after he does. “Maybe?” I echo again. He heads to the door and stops and looks back. “Link, right? Hm. I know that name from somewhere. Anyways, wicked party bro.” With that he's out of the door, leaving me standing in the middle of the living room. Little do I know Brad is standing there at the kitchen opening, watching the whole scene.