Page 3 of Crybaby

“Are you going to fuck me now?”Maree purred into my ear as I fastened her wrists to the headboard.

“Yes, Maree, I am,” I stated with confidence.

Regardless of the fact that I was using her and she me, I appreciate beauty whenever, wherever I see it, and I won’t forget the image of Maree Vanderbilt tied to her four-poster bed as I fucked her senseless anytime soon.

As I carefully remove the glass frame from the wall and unlatch the backing, I softly rest the frame on the wooden kitchen table. When I lay my hands on the parchment, a sharp intake of breath leaves me.

Thisis what gets me hard.

Cautiously removing the painting, I delicately roll it up and retrieve a Polaroid of my cock from my backpack. I lick the back of it and slap it so it sits dead center in the frame with a lovely amount of negative space around it.

Once it’s on the wall, I take a step back, tilting my head to the side with a lopsided smirk.

Chef’s kiss.

Not sure if Maree will appreciate the memorabilia, however. But I’d kill to see her explain her way out of this one. I, on the other hand, would have no issues explaining why there’s a cock hanging on the kitchen wall.

It’s all about thinking outside the box—pun totally intended.

I’m good at what I do because I pay attention. Most people listen, waiting for when it’s their turn to talk, but not me. I listen and learn, as a smart predator should. It’s the only way I know how to survive.

The women I fuck and steal from use me just as much as I use them. I’m their dirty little secret they replay in their minds when they get fucked from behind by Mr. Viagra’s small cock. They like to reminisce about how they had dirty sex with a high school student.

But I’m far from a kid.

I grew up quick as I was more a parent to my mom than she was to me.

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve thrown her drunk ass into the shower to sober her up. Or shoved my fingers down her throat to force the concoction of prescription pills back up.

But I don’t complain.

This taught me early on that to survive in this world, you’ve got to stop hitching a ride and grab life by the balls. If there’s an opportunity, take it. Hesitating will only end in regret, and I won’t live a day wondering what-if.

That’s why I do what I do with a smile, and I don’t regret a single thing.

Guys my age will be talking about pussy and getting drunk, but I don’t have time for that. I want more in life. I refuse to be a statistic. I’m leaving this fucking town, and I’m doing so on the wealth of the people I stole from.

It’s poetic justice, really.

The roller door on the garage whines open, alerting me that it’s time to bounce.

Shouldering my backpack, I go to the fridge and open Pierre’s packed lunch for tomorrow and quickly defile it with my tongue…just like I did to Maree’s pussy.

Seems only fair Pierre gets in on the action too.

My footsteps echo in the empty hall as I coolly make my way toward the front door. I stroll. Don’t run. Just as I exit the front, Pierre enters through the back. It’s that easy.

Slipping on my hood, I walk through the manicured gardens and peek into the kitchen window.

Pierre tosses his car keys onto the counter, shaking his head when he sees the fridge door ajar. He closes it, but I know that Rueben sandwich has caught his eye. This fucker doesn’t look like he’s had a carb since 1984.

A temptation awaits him. What will he do?

Pierre stuffs the entire thing into his mouth but freezes mid-chew as his gaze becomes fixed on the wall in front of him.

And that’s my cue to leave.

Walking across the plush front lawn, I ensure I leave muddy footprints. I’m about to disappear into the night but stop dead in my tracks when the full moon catches a flick of silver from across the street.

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