Once again, thank you to those of you who review. Those who are reading and not responding…I know you are out there! PLEASE give me feedback so I know if I should keep going or not! There are several plot twists coming up, starting in this chapter. And just a warning, there is a mildly graphic scene.
Chapter 3- A Little Goes A Long Way
Kenny's POVPaul is getting annoying. All he is talking about is Bebe this, Bebe that. I hate that girl, and if he keeps it up, there's going to be hell to pay. Kyle and Stan absolutely suck at this game, and I'm pretty sure I'm drunk off my ass at this time, but I keep tossing down the beers like there is nothing to worry about. I guess I've learned from the best. My dad. The deadbeat asshole who has taught me the true meaning of life. Chicks, booze, and parties. Fuck him, I want to be more.
But for now, I'm going to be the twenty year old I am supposed to be, out drinking with my friends and showing the world that Kenny McCormick can handle it. Hey, I'm supposed to be the "partier" of them, aren't I? Why should I stop here?
Paul is rambling about some unknown time he and Bebe had a fight. They always have fights, they shouldn't be together. I'm the only one that sees that, cause I'm the only one that knows how they are together. I live with the guy. She's not right for him, just like she wasn't right for Kyle. Nobody else cares. But I do.
Cartman used to be my best friend. But when Paul came into town, he had something no one else had. He and I had such similarities, yet we were so different. We fit together—we became good friends. Kyle and Stan never understood it. Why would they? They were best friends themselves. I was always jealous that I couldn't be either of their best friends. Anyway. Cartman I think got pissed. Because he no longer had me to pick on. Paul and I ganged up on him, and eventually he grew out of it. I suppose he is growing up. Heh heh, I saw him and Wendy sneak upstairs a few minutes ago. I bet I know what they are doing. I hope Kyle can distract Stan long enough for him not to notice.
I don't want Stan to be hurt. I always considered him and Kyle to be genuinely good guys, and I never would want to see them sad. Stan especially, he's always so emotional. I don't think Kyle has a care in the world anymore. I'm really glad they invited me up here tonight. Oh god, Paul is STILL talking about Bebe. Now I see him reaching for his phone. That's it. Drunk Kenny or not, I'm letting him hear it.
"Paul, god dammit, get off the fucking phone!" I start. He looks at me blankly. I think he's more than surprised when I take his phone from his grasp and throw it across the room. "All you ever do is check to see if Bebe is okay. If Bebe is going to be mad. Be a MAN for once! She's going to be fine, whether you talk to her tonight or not! Just chill! God!"
Uh oh. I think I made him mad. He is staring at me with an evil eye. "WHAT THE HELL WOULD YOU KNOW, WHORE!"
Did he just call me a whore?
"I don't expect you to ever know how to treat a woman, asshole! Bebe is special to me, okay? Do you know what that means?" He is practically screaming at me now. I think this fight was a long time coming. "Whatever, dude. Fuck you." he tells me, and leaves the room. I think we are both a little too drunk, but I don't care enough to follow him.
It's taking me a while to calm down. I shouldn't care that much, but when your best friend is messing with his life like that, I guess its bound to cause tension sometime. I look over at Stan and Kyle, who look like they are in some sort of lover's quarrel. Ha, they've been together since this party started, never leaving each other's side. Its fun to make fun of them. Come to think of it, now that I listen in on their argument, I think Stan has discovered that Cartman and Wendy are no longer downstairs. Yep, he is not listening to Kyle. He is definitely storming out of the room right now.
I watch them a few more seconds as they make their way around their home, and eventually Stan sprints up the steps. I notice that I am kind of following them, until Kyle shakes Stan's shoulders and tells him something, which in turn causes them both to head up to Kyle's room. Good thing too, I bet Stan wouldn't want to bust down Cartman's door and see him and Wendy together in bed.
I can't say anything though. I'm honestly happy for the guy. I mean Eric Cartman hasn't really had his way with the ladies throughout life. And if this is his first time, then, well, I don't blame him. What better girl to lose it to? Wendy is like the epitome of hotness. I can't tell you how many times I thought of considering if I'd be down for a threesome with her and Stan. I mean, girls like that just don't show up in South Park very often. He was a lucky son-of-a-bitch. Thinking of Wendy makes me want to ditch this party and find some girl to take my sexual frustration out on. I look around the party to see if there is any girl to satisfy me. There is a girl in the corner with thick brown hair and dimples in her smile. She is purposely leaning over the foosball table so that I can see her nipples. She is going to have to do.
No wait. Nevermind. One of God's beautiful creatures just walked through the back door. Who is that? She doesn't look like she belongs. I stare at her from across the room. She is wearing this short, short skirt that exposes these incredibly long legs that are too sexy for this party. As I near closer to her, I notice her radiant straight black hair, which is shining even though there is no light to shine on it. Her eyes dart around the room as if she is looking for someone. I figure this is my chance. Girls like that don't randomly show up at parties when I'm around—I'm going to move in for the kill. Moving even closer, I see now she is not even a girl, but a young woman. Way older than the others I see here. She has spotted me by now, our eyes are locked in.
"I couldn't help but notice that you look a bit out of place," I say, well aware that she could take offense to this. Or she could be flattered. Either way, I'm prepared.
She looks at me intently. Her olive green eyes are burning a hole through my deep blue ones. "Actually, I was invited here by a friend," she replies. "But I can't find him anywhere." Damn, she is fine.
I inch closer to her. I think she can tell that I want her. Its one of those instant things. I think she wants me too. "I'm sorry to hear that," I respond. I know this is lame—this isn't one of my best pick up attempts. What do you expect? I've drank close to a keg of beer myself. "Can I help you find him?" I ask. Now this is better. If the girl is aware that I am interested in her needs, she'll be willing to fulfill mine.
She smiles at me. "Kyle Broflovski invited me here. Are you a friend of his?"
I smile back, moving to her side, and placing my hand on the small of her back. "You know, I actually am."
Was this wrong? She looks perplexed. "Are you Stan?" she asks. I frown.
"No, my name is Kenny." I pause and look deep in her eyes.
This brings her relief, as I feel her body relax a bit, and she breathes out. "I haven't seen you around here before."
"Well, I live in his hometown. I'm actually an old friend of his," I fire back. You get the picture. We make small talk. Mostly, I'm trying to figure out if she's interested or not. Which she seems like she is. She is practically cuddling me right now. I know she is into me.
She says her name is Geneva, and we talk for a few more minutes before I can't take it anymore. It sucks that I'm not at home, because I don't have a bedroom to go into or anything. I keep staring down her shirt, trying to figure out what cup size she is. Whatever it is, this girl is fucking hot! I'm running out of time. If we don't go somewhere now, I'm going to lose it. She keeps touching my back and stomach too, pretending to laugh at some lame comment I made. I survey the house, weighing my options.
Stan didn't give me a very good tour. I'm pretty sure he mentioned a basement, but if we got down there and it was infested with bugs and shit, I don't think she'd be too excited about that, so that option is out. Cartman's room is already occupied, and I wouldn't be gross and hook up on Stan's bed. Ideally, Kyle's couch upstairs would be fucking amazing, but he's still trying to calm Stan down from the Cartman/Wendy fiasco. My only option is the upstairs bathroom. How the hell am I going to get an amazing specimen such as Geneva to come with me to the bathroom?
She is pressing her body up against me now. I see her look around the room, and suddenly, she leans and kisses me. I can taste tequila on her lips. Perfect. A little alcohol-induced persuasion won't bother an intoxicated person herself, so I casually kiss her back. Of course, I don't want to make a scene. This is actually better, because now I suggest, "Do you want to go somewhere?"
I don't know what it is with girls, but it seems like lately I don't have to work hard. I haven't tried to make myself look any better; I'm still the same old Kenny. Yeah, I've grown into my looks, but I'm still the skinniest of my friends, with shaggy blonde hair and blue eyes. I don't have that much money to purchase an expensive wardrobe, so I always sport the same blue T-shirt that barely fits me. It's a little too tight. The only thing that is stylish is the pants I decide to wear. Tonight I went for my dark tan cargo pants. I have a few wristbands that I bought for a noble cause, and one of them my friend made out of an old seventies tie. I also have a favorite necklace that compliments the shirt. To me, I look like the trashiest guy at the party.
But girls seem to dig it. And this girl is completely diggin' it, because she doesn't have to respond before she starts kissing me harder and nodding her head. Maybe it's the new cologne I'm wearing.
At this point, I think she's willing to settle anywhere that I am, so I lead her upstairs to the bathroom. I open the door wider, and allow her to walk in first. I follow, making sure to lock the door behind me. As soon as I do so, she spins me around and pins me to the door, kissing me almost violently. I like this approach, and so I let her have her way with me. After a few minutes, I'm tired of being passive, and interchange positions, pressing her to the counter on the left. She props herself up on it, her right hand letting go of my back for a minute to search for the light switch. Once she has turned off the light, only the faint glow of a little nightlight in the corner by the toilet, and the thin line of light protruding from the bottom of the door is showing. I have to adjust my eyes to this—I want to be able to see her when we get naked.
I think she is surprised when I loosen one of the straps on her tank top so that it falls off her shoulder. I lightly kiss that shoulder, and I hear her let out a slight whimper. Yes! She's gonna be a moaner!
My hands are both on her shoulders, and I feel her legs wrap around mine. She is pretty much falling into the indention of the sink now, and so I pull her back up, closer to me. I am kissing up and down her shoulder, patiently making my way to her ear. Every girl has a fetish with her ear; it's just up to the guy to find out where and how. I gently bite her ear lobe and breathe heavy breaths into the canal, hearing her respond a little bit louder this time. I make my way to her lips, this time they are juicy and prepared for my tongue. I trace the outside of her lips with my tongue, and quietly move my hands from her shoulder to her back to her ass. Grabbing it and pulling her closer to me allows her to feel my growing erection close to her, and usually this entices the girls further.
Sure enough, she screams out an, "Ohhhh, Kenny!" and starts grinding on me. I love this part of foreplay, because it's usually the girl teasing the guy, but this time, I get to tease the girl. I gently pull the fabric of her what feels like silk panties to the side and massage her, inside. She repositions her arms, grasping my neck even tighter. As I look at her, I watch her entire body shake and her head shoot backwards. Whoa, I don't think she's quite ready for this yet. Her body is telling me to go slower, so I quickly pull my finger out, and make my way to her shirt once more. I want to see these breasts.
I lean in to kiss her again, this time pulling the other strap of her tank top off her shoulder. She doesn't seem to like this approach very much, because she pushes me away just enough so that she takes her own shirt and nearly rips it off of her. She is wearing nothing underneath—I see perfect breasts exposed. She forcefully arches her back, pretty much shoving them in my face, which totally turns me on. I grab the right one and bring my mouth to the nipple, sucking and gently biting until it is as erect as the part in my body. I do the same to the other side. She is still arching her back, which is driving me wild.
Dude, whoever this girl is, is fucking amazing. I've gotten a response before, but never a girl that has made me want to skip all the teasing and get right down to it. This is driving me crazy. Thank you, Kyle, for having such an awesome friend.
She is making small gasps with her lips now. I can tell she is trying to muffle her pleasure. She spreads her legs even further for me, and I can see that now she is ready. Instead of wasting time with the panties, I take a step back and pull them off completely. Now she is in her sexy little skirt, and I'm still fully clothed. We've got to get this moving. No need, she pulls me back and pulls my shirt over my head aggressively. We now caress each other, touching our bare bodies to one another. That is one of my favorite parts. God, I love the female body. She has fallen back into the sink again, and her head and shoulders are resting against the background mirror. She's pulled my upper half up there with her, so I'm not complaining. I take a minute and look down at her incredible body. That skirt is so damn short it isn't covering anything. She could be naked right now, it wouldn't make a difference. But I like the skirt, so I keep it.
It's too much—she is making me wait too long. But right now she is searching for my belt buckle and trying to maneuver my pants off. Its cute, she's struggling so much. I help her out a little bit, and my pants instantly fall to the floor. My boxers don't hold in my erection very well. Doesn't matter, she's pulling those off too. Wow, my clothes came off fast. She must be as ready as I am! I kick the crumpled clothes mass to the side, and bring her close to me, pulling her ass out of the sink groove once again.
She arches her back again as I grab her lower back to pull her toward me, and I take another minute to appreciate what an amazing body this girl has. I pull her so close to me, I feel myself slide inside of her. And like that, we are fucking.
God damn, it's a good fuck too. She isn't going to stop until she comes, I can tell. And its not going to happen in a position like this. I forcefully pull her out of the sink, with her legs still wrapped around my lower torso. With her arms wrapped around my neck, I gently lower her to the cold linoleum floor—I can feel myself still inside of her. She grinds up and down, her nipples growing twice in size from the shock of the cold to her back. She reaches her hands down and grabs my ass as I have with her once before. I like when they are aggressive too. We are both making plenty of noises now. It's only a matter of time before someone breaks open the door. But for the time, I'm lost inside the hottest girl at the party…
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Stan's POV
"Dude, Kyle, you suck at this game!" I blurt out, watching as he can barely hit the table, much less the cups of beer.
"Yeah, well I'm sober," he shoots back, making me realize how pointless this probably is for him. Kyle was never a fan of the drink. I, myself, enjoy knocking the beers back and watching time go by. Yeah, all the guys on the soccer team are probably alcoholics. I think it's a rule if you're in varsity sports or something.
I'm not sure what it is, but I have always been really good at sports. All throughout grade school and high school, I was the star quarterback, or the star pitcher, or something else really lame like that. I never really enjoyed those games—it was just something I'd been coaxed into doing because I was letting my town down or something. What's funny is that I tried out for soccer last year as a walk-on, hoping to get to practice with a sport that I could potentially enjoy. I guess I was pretty good at it too, because this year I'm starting out varsity, and I'm the ONLY sophomore to do that. Its weird, but I actually do like kicking the ball around on the field. It also meant making a lot of friends really quickly. Half the guys at this party are my buddies from the team. A lot of them came for the beer despite how they feel about me. I'm pretty sure they hate me for taking a position away from one of the upperclassmen.
Kyle has stuck by my side through it all. Just like he is now. Just like this party, I get the feeling he doesn't give a shit about soccer. Yet he's always at every game, cheering me on in with the others he bribed into coming with him. Sure, he's usually high as a kite and doesn't pay that much attention, but his presence is what really matters to me.
Wendy went to all of my games. She was the girl in the front row with her face painted and a bullhorn that said "I love #7" on it. Of course I was number seven. Everyone in high school knew she was my girl, and every guy was jealous of me because of it. It was cool cause I would show up at her volleyball games the same way, and all the girls would give me puppy dog eyes and ogle over how adorable I was. I could tell she was digging that kind of attention, so I tried to outdo myself each game. God, I miss her…
I screwed up. Bad. I'm not sure how, but Wendy doesn't love me anymore. I'm not sure if she ever did. Drinking myself away tonight is only going to reaffirm the fact that she is not here with me. She is here with Cartman. That two-faced son-of-a-bitch who was secretly out to seduce her since she kissed him way back when. He joked about it all the time with me, saying she was only warming up with me, and when she needed a real man, she would come flocking to him. Funny thing. That's what she did. And now I'm left alone. Alone without Wendy. Wendy. I love her so much.
I pound another beer back, and I hear Paul and Kenny starting to fight about Bebe. Bebe's cool and all, but she is not relationship material. It was always a riot to double date with her and Kyle, because he would be sneaking off to get stoned so he could sit through her boring ass conversations about what store is her favorite and why. He was only in it for the sex, and I'm pretty sure he felt that it was worth staying with her for so long. I think he finally broke it off because he was going to have a nervous breakdown if she didn't shut up. Wendy got pretty mad at me after that, punishing me for not convincing Kyle to stay with Bebe. Dude, I wasn't going to tell him to stay tied down to that girl—she is not the right person for him. He needs someone who will be wiling to sit with him in silence, but appreciates just how amazing he truly is. Someone who he can relate to intellectually, and won't make him feel as though he has dumb down his conversation. Someone who knows him inside and out, and will love him no matter what. Yeah, Kyle is my best friend. I wish so badly that he would find someone to love him back.
I know how girls are to him. They are freaked out by the brainiac, unsure of how to relate to his massive intellect. The usually run away with their tails in between their legs for fear of rejection. If only they knew that he doesn't really reject anybody, especially girls that are interested in him. I don't think he's bad looking at all—I don't understand why there aren't more girls following him around.
There was only one time during our entire high school relationship where I thought I was going to break up with Wendy. She found out that Kyle smoked, and shortly after she began to monitor me to make sure I wasn't exhibiting the same behaviors. This annoyed me, but I let it pass. Until she would call me to see whom I was with, making sure I wasn't with Kyle. When I was, she let out this disappointed sigh, and we would hang up. I knew she disliked him then, and she almost tried to break our friendship up because of it. We argued day in and day out for a good two weeks about it before she, for once, gave in to me. After all, he's MY friend. My best friend. It didn't matter to me if she, or any other girl, approved of him. He was still the greatest guy I have ever known.
I watched as my friend made one last pathetic attempt to hit the ball into the beer cup. When he failed, Kenny stopped fighting with Paul just long enough to look at us and laugh. Their argument seems very dreamlike to me. "Dude, I'm fucking wasted," I mention to Kyle, who is braced in a position in case I fall backwards. I'm not going to do that to him this time. I think I'll stop drinking now.
I see Paul reach for his phone. "All you ever do is check to see if Bebe is okay," I hear Kenny fume. "If Bebe is going to be mad. Be a MAN for once! She's going to be fine, whether you talk to her tonight or not! Just chill! God!"
"WHAT THE HELL WOULD YOU KNOW, WHORE!" Paul retorts. I chuckle to myself. Kenny really is a whore. He's slept with more girls than Kyle, Cartman, and I have kissed put together. If a girl friend of mine ever showed interest in him, I would steer them clear and never let them get within twenty feet of him. Still, its funny how he looks like he's offended that Paul pointed out the obvious. Whoa! Paul just told him to fuck off and is leaving. My eyes trail Paul as he leaves the living room, storming into the hallway, past the kitchen…where's Cartman and Wendy!
"Where's Cartman and Wendy?" I ask again, aloud. I frantically speed into the kitchen, darting my eyes around the place. I'm not seeing them anywhere. I turn back and head toward the back of the house. Kyle is still standing next to the beer pong table, watching Kenny as he attempts to calm down. I can feel my own body heat rising as I suddenly realize they are nowhere to be found! I stomp back into the living room, meeting Kyle's side.
"Cartman and Wendy disappeared!" I say, protectively.
Kyle just gives me a 'what do you want me to do about it' look and blinks his eyes.
I make a short of hand gesture to show my rising anger. "Dude! What the hell? Where are they!"
Kyle sighs. "Stan. For the last time. You and Wendy are not together anymore. It's none of your business where she is at right now. She is not yours to protect anymore, okay dude?" he says caringly, and puts his hands on my shoulders. This isn't calming me down. I don't care if I'm being a jealous ex right now, that fat asshole shouldn't be alone with my Wendy.
Whoops, I think I said that out loud. Kyle's eyes are staring at me in disbelief. "God Dammit, Stan! You need to get over it already! It's been over a year! SHE IS NOT YOUR WENDY. She is with Cartman now. You ARE being a jealous ex and I'm fucking sick of it! Either you shut the hell up or we're leaving!"
"Why are you taking Cartman's side?" I ask, furiously. I know I'm being irrational. Kyle is shaking me now.
"Get a fucking grip, Stan! You are being ridiculous!" I hear him say, uselessly. He calms down and lets go of my shoulders. "I like you way better than that fatass, you know that. It still doesn't change the fact that he is with her right now." His tone is soothing, even though I'm still plenty upset. "Get over it NOW," he adds, bitterly.
I took a minute to think. After a while, I started shaking my head. Then words came out. "No, you know what? She's going to do something she regrets just to piss me off! I can't let her do that. I WON'T!" I say, inconsolable. I pound my feet into the ground and up the stairs, skipping every other one. I watch Kyle bow his head behind me before he takes off in the same direction. I hear him in the background yelling my name. One more step and I stop, dead in my tracks.
In front of me is a closed door. A thick white door with a gold doorknob, leading into Cartman's room. If the music wasn't so loud downstairs, I swear I could hear pants and moans coming from within. I angrily grab hold of the doorknob, twisting it violently. Son-of-a-bitch locked the door. I press my ear up to the cold white paint, and sure enough, I hear a male voice whisper, "Someone is trying to get in!"
Then I hear a female voice respond, "Fuck them. It's probably some random drunk trying to find the bathroom, honey. GO AWAY ASSHOLE!" That's all I need. I pound my fists in a fit of rage so hard I feel the foundation shake. "STOP FUCKING MY GIRLFRIEND, FATASS!" I scream, knowing full well who is really being the ass here. Sometimes when I'm drunk, I can't control my rage. Remind me to look into that.
I'm practically crying as I feel two strong arms wrap around my waist and pull me away from the abused door. "STAN, GET A GRIP!" I hear Kyle yell. His voice is a mix of both anger and concern. For some reason, I resist his attempts to pull me away. I'm the stronger of the two of us, but I feel his grasp tightening. "I'm not going to let you do this tonight, Stan! I won't!" he is repeating. I decide to give up.
I whirl around to face Kyle, who stumbles back a few feet after I was freed. Breathing heavily, I looked him straight in the eye. I shake my head and shrug my shoulders, as if signifying I am doing nothing wrong. He just glares at me—his emerald eyes deeply committed to calming me down.
"You need to leave them alone," he mutters under his breath. "You have disturbed them enough. Let them be. Come upstairs with me, we've got to get to you to chill," he coaxes me, trying once more to speak to me rationally. His voice is almost monotonous but comforting.
But I'm not convinced. My eyes grow wide. "You expect me to let them be IN THERE when I know what they are doing?"
Kyle looks deep into my eyes and takes a step forward. Placing his right hand on my shoulder, he replies quietly, "Do you really think that you breaking it up tonight is going to prevent them from doing anything in the future? Stan, they are a couple now and have been for quite some time. And Cartman, whether you like it or not, is your friend. You should be happy for him."
"Happy for him! When he is in there with my girl?" I ask, stupidly.
"Whatever, dude," Kyle grunts, throwing his hands up in the air and taking a step back from me. He is shaking his head too. "You DO realize you are being a selfish, self-centered, irrational, pompous, whining, overprotective, completely insane asshole, don't you?"
I blink at him several times. I can't believe he just said that to me. Deep down, I know its what is needed to be said, but still. Ouch, Kyle.
I sigh. He is right. As usual. I bow my head in defeat. Being a jerk isn't going to get me anywhere. And it's certainly not going to help my relationship with either of them. I probably damaged it a bunch as it is. All I know is that I need to be alone right now. No, I need to have Kyle right there. He always keeps me in tune. He's amazing. Truly a good friend.
He breathes a sigh of relief, as if he knows what he said finally made me crack. "Alright, lets go upstairs for a little while. Kenny's here to hold down the fort. At least, until he finds a girl." I couldn't believe it. Kyle was going to risk our house being smashed in to go upstairs and comfort me. My best friend.
"Alright, fine," I answer, and feel his hand push my back gently toward the direction of his bedroom door.
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