Page 3 of Jack Frost
Chapter Two
I saw her picture in the yearbook, and I couldn’t believe it was the same girl from my social media feeds.
She was pretty and innocent back then during senior year, with little tits and a cinched waist that she covered up under big sweaters. At least her plump little ass was usually covered with leggings, letting me see every damn inch of her curvy thighs.
I was in the basement getting some things ready for the party. Beer pong table, setting up a table cloth on a long folding table and putting out some bowls of chips and salsa. Stocking the fridge down there full of tall boys for my guests. I got distracted like I always do, looking at my old trophies from my college glory days. I even went through a shoebox full of polaroids from the gigs my old band used to do in basements and garages.
When I spotted my yearbook, I flipped through casually until I came to a familiar name. Caty. It’s a small town, and I know everyone. Fuck, everyone knows everyone. I’m nothing special.
But this Caty didn’t look familiar. I remember her from back in the day, but I don't think I've seen her recently. So I looked her up.
Shit. She’s even fucking hotter now.
Short brown hair with bangs, piercing blue eyes as deep as the fucking ocean. I want to swim in them. Her milky, perfect alabaster skin is pulled over high cheekbones and a little chin that I want to grab below heart-shaped lips that I want to nibble on.
I’m in the kitchen mixing up some salsa con queso with a few of my buddies watching TV in the living room. I’m expecting more of my guests to trickle in when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I slip it out, and it’s Caty. Taking a sip of my beer, I put my bottle down and adjust my cock.
Hey, I’d love to come. What time? Can I bring my friend?
Friend? This so-called friend better not be some other fucking guy. I take another swig from my bottle and consider my response.
Of course you can. Get over here whenever you want.
I decide not to ask anything more about the friend and hit send. The microwave dings and I carry the dip along with some chips piled high in a bowl into the living room, where my boys descend upon the snacks like ravenous beasts.
“Now boys, share. There’s enough for everyone,” I say, sinking into my comfy leather chair. I pull up one of my social media feeds and tap over to her account. Scrolling through the pictures, I can’t believe this is the same Caty from college when I sent her a friend request months ago. I thought she was just some hot chick that I wanted to see more pictures of. But she was that fucking sexy goody-goody nerd back in college who was completely off-limits and untouchable.
I would rather have had her over any of the blonde bubbly cheerleaders with the short skirts any day.
My cock strains against my jeans as I scroll through her pictures. There’s one of her with her Christmas tree, one of her studying in the library. She’s still a good girl. I bet she doesn’t know my tongue is going to be wrapped around her clit by the end of the night.
I scroll up to the top of her feed and see a picture of her and another girl. It was posted in the last twenty minutes. Good. I hope this is the friend she’s bringing tonight, and not some douche bag who doesn’t know how to treat her right. She wouldn’t need to come to my party if she had a real man fucking her right. It’s New Year’s Eve, after all.
It’s time to celebrate.
I focus on Caty’s face, her eyes, her fucking perfect lips and my cock is raging to get out.
