Go Ahead, Keep Going! Pt. 03 - Sex Stories

Go Ahead, Keep Going! Pt. 03

... where he lives and I'm going there with or without you. A half-decent brother wouldn't let me go by myself. After all, I am a defenseless woman."

She turned and strolled out the door again. I reluctantly followed suit. My sister couldn't have been as innocent as she seemed, I thought, for this was all very clever. She was tapping into my masculine, teenage sense of honor. If I didn't want to be perceived as unattractive, or un-brotherly, I would have to go with her, right? Is that why I did it?

Nah. I probably just wanted to egg the man's house.

A No-Account Mom-Diddler

My fingers danced nervously over the steering wheel as I drove us into Rich's neighborhood. I didn't like the look of this part of town. Alice sat and stared ahead at the road in determined silence, clutching the basket of eggs in her lap. She looked like a mother goose guarding a nest.

"Son of a bitch probably lives on food stamps," I said, glancing around at the rows of rundown houses.

"Let's not resort to classist stereotyping," she answered. "Really Devin, I'm surprised at you."

"Sorry Allie, I just heard a guy at work say that. Sounded like a very MASCULINE and ATTRACTIVE sort of thing to say."

"You are like, an ACTUAL idiot." She adjusted her glasses and all I could see were the blazing reflections of the sun in her thick, foggy lenses. "Here it is! The last house on the corner. 5370 Tennessee Street."

"Well, shit..."

I pulled up to a particularly shabby-looking shack ...

... with a weathered paint job and parked on the street. Alice rolled down her window and peered at it. Her side was facing the house.

"That's it, alright. Look at the state of his patio, for crying out loud!" she said, pointing.

I shut off the engine. We stepped out into the morning sun, carefully approaching the small, white house in hushed silence. I saw no car in the driveway so I figured we were probably good. Really not wise in my youth, I gotta admit.

"Look at those bottles," she hissed at me. The patio table was covered in empty beer bottles that piled and lay about. Cigarette butts piled up in various ashtrays. The scene was rather bleak. "That Mr. Delaney is nothing but a drunk."

"Keep your voice down," I whispered. "Let's be quick about this."

We chucked a few eggs at the place. They splattered against the fence and the sliding glass door and I felt this was all rather underwhelming. Not the glorious military operation I had imagined.

"You think that's enough?" I asked. My sister was rearing back and preparing to launch another projectile, one eye squinted shut.

"We still have all those eggs left," she said.

She pitched it and it tumbled through the air. At that moment, the sliding glass door cracked open and my stomach just about dropped out of my ass.

"Shit!" I said.

"There he is," she grumbled.

The door slid open and there he was indeed, the rat bastard himself. Rich was a pudgy middle-aged man in a wife-beater shirt and boxers. His ...