Page 77 of His Big Bad Stick

And, yes, I avoid the fans again.

Call me whatever you want, I deserve it.

Right now, I just need to hole up in my apartment, have a drink, and figure out what to do next with whatever this damn feeling is.

If I do get suspended, maybe I’ll go up to the cabin.

No! No cabin!

So, what, now I can’t go to my place of quiet and comfort all because I took Abrielle up there and fucked her?

So this feeling does revolve around her?

Questions like that - when they hit - they piss me right the fuck off.

And actually if I’m being real with myself, I think the problem is that I haven’t done anything fun since… you know.

And by fun, I mean fuck.

I need to fuck someone.

Jerking off onto my bed and t-shirt? What a stupid idea.

Jerking off in the shower? Waste of time.

I’m not built and meant to be alone and stroke my cock.

I can find someone else to do it for me. With ease too.

Fucking right, then it’s settled. Head home, make a call or two, and I’ll have someone stop over for the sole purpose of fucking me. No dating. No talking. No bullshit.

Just show up, get naked, and ride my cock until I feel better.

I’m finally at my building, ready to turn and go into the underground parking garage, and you’ll guess what happens…

Someone is waiting for me. Again.

Someone is blocking my path. Again.

I almost run someone over. Again…

This time when I see Abrielle, she’s not covered in blood.

She’s just standing there.

Obviously she’s been waiting for me.

But why now? Why wait a fucking month and then pull a stunt like this again?

What is this supposed to be? She gets lonely and horny, then tracks me down?

Not that I would complain but this weird, semi-stalker shit doesn’t work for me.

So what do I do?

I roll my window down. Just like last time.

I stick my head out the window and feel my lip curling.

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