Rich Prick – Tijan Page 0,2

to drive her mouth over me. All the while, I never stopped watching the other girl.

I couldn’t place her.

I was pretty sure she hadn’t been at Zeke’s party, but who the fuck knew. He’d invited fifty people, way more than he needed to, but Zeke was a lovable bully idiot. He was mean. Some might say he had a slime effect on them, but he was my best friend. I couldn’t judge. I had an attitude the size of fucking Alaska. Anyway, back to Zeke. He liked to go big, and that included his parties and his fuck-ups, and there were a lot of both.

That girl…

I liked her.

Fresh face. I could tell she was light on the makeup. Her face was one of those that would look jaded under a ton of crap, but without it, she looked the way she did right now: innocent and pure. Though the fact that she was watching my blowjob didn’t fit either of those adjectives. She was tugging on her lip now, her hand lingering on her shorts.

Christ.

Her shorts.

My chick was wearing a bikini top and shredded jean shorts—and those shorts were hardly there. They were more decorative so she didn’t get arrested for public indecency. All the girls at this party were like that. Bikinis, and anything else they wore was painted on their bodies. The old school way of thought might’ve labeled them sluts or whores, but since we were all liberal and progressive, we went with sexually healthy appetites.

I, currently, was enjoying my girl’s appetite.

She opened her mouth wider, angled her head to the other side, and oooh yeah—I was in at a whole different depth now. Fuck it. I took hold of her hair and started moving. She moaned, but only widened her jaw and spread her knees a little more apart. She was bracing herself.

Fuuuuck yeah.

That meant I could go a little harder, which I did. I shoved her down a bit more, a better angle, and right there. I loved when they let me take over. But then I looked back up to watch Voyeur Girl. My friends and I did not hang out with girls like my voyeur. My dick got harder. I almost cursed, gritting my teeth. I had not expected that reaction, but I’d take it.

The girl watching wore a buttoned-up maroon shirt, the ends tied at her waist. She had a good rack. The shirt was bunched up to hide ’em, but I saw her girls. They would be a decent handful, almost perfect. And she wasn’t wearing a bra. There was enough of a tease between the buttons that I could see just skin, just tits.

The rest of her… I had no words.

Khaki shorts that ended mid-thigh, and what a fucking thigh she had.

This girl could model.

Long. Lean. Legs meant to wrap around your waist—I thrust a little harder, and my girl groaned around me. I needed to ease up, but I was almost gone. Almost. Not quite.

Then Mara reached up and massaged my boys. That was enough.

I unloaded into her.

She swallowed like a champ and smiled up at me. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and for a second, the weird chick was forgotten. I grinned at Mara. I always liked Mara’s blowjobs, and because I wasn’t an asshole, I tugged her up and moved her farther behind the trees so she was hidden from view.

Now was my turn to make her feel good.

Kissing her, I slid my hand inside her shorts and inside her, and when she was done and moaning, I looked over my shoulder. The other girl was still there, still glued to her tree, her eyes still right on us, but this time, she saw me.

Her eyes bulged out, and she inhaled sharply. She jerked back, and I grinned, lifting my hand to my mouth. I tasted Mara on my fingers as I watched her. Then I winked.

She uttered a muffled scream.

Chuckling, I grabbed Mara as she tensed in my arms.

Her head snapped around. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” I kept her tight to my side as she fixed her pants. “Come on. Let’s go back to the party.”

As we left, I glanced back.

The girl was gone.

2

Blaise

“Dude! Soccer superstar!”

I grimaced. I wasn’t known here for soccer and a part of me was hoping to keep that on the down low, for now. Zeke welcomed us back into the house with a toga half draped over him, a drinking helmet on his head—both straws hanging down