Bluffington High:Part 2
My Friend Skeeter.
Dear Journal,
Hello.
As I write to you,
I still can't believe what happened last week.
The whole Fentruck thing.
I finally broke the courage to tell Porkchop.
He seemed uninterested.
But that's in the past.
This week something good happened.
I finally got a car.
See, it all started when..
Doug Funnie looked at his reflection in the dome of his brand new green car. He began to shine it with a rag. He turned away. But a strange force compelled him to return. He washed it again, and again. He found he could not stop. He finally broke down in tears. His Mom had to pull him away.
Doug awoke several hours later. His mom was looking at his wrists. "What's this? What happened?" "Nothing! I..I...fell." "And cut your wrists?" "Come on Mom no! I cut them shaving!" "I see. We are really worried about you son." "I'll be ok Mom don't worry about me."
After Doug's mom left he felt his thoughts drift back to Fentruck's penis. He thought about a girl he had seen at school. She was a senior. Doug imagined her firm nipples. He began to get hard. Doug had never felt this way before. He felt a longing. He remembered Fentruck. Doug got up and went to his room. He locked the door and put a chair underneath the knob for extra measure.
Doug pulled down his pants. He stared at his penis. He began imitating Fentruck. He imagined himself licking ketchup off of the girl's nipples, and with this he started to cum a little bit. It dripped out slowly, then it happened. He thought about his mom. That summer. The bathing suit she wore. Her butt up in the air as she bent over for cokes. Doug lost it. Cum began to shoot everywhere. On his clothes. Even on his journal. But Doug didn't even care. This felt so good he kept stroking. He thought his balls were going to shrivel up, maybe even his whole body.
He remembered what Fentruck had done. He touched the tip of his pee hole, and took just a nibble of his own seed. "Salty.", he said quietly. It wasn't particulary good, and he wouldn't like it to have been his only food source.
Doug jerked off twice more before cleaning it up. As he was cleaning up he noticed Porkchop bending over. He wondered if it would be right. Doug couldn't believe it, he found himself moving closer to Porkchop. He drew his cock near Porkchop's ass. It was hovering outside his hairy dog opening. Just then a yell, "Doug! Come quick!"
Doug hunched over as he walked down stairs trying to hide his boner. "What's that on your hand?" Doug's mom asked. "Oh that's white out," he quickly lied, amazing himself, "I messed up in my journal." "I'm afraid I've got some bad news honey."
Doug looked outside. His car's wheel's were missing. It sat on four cinder blocks. The radio had been ripped out. Doug was visibly distraught. He couldn't even remember that just moments before he was shooting cum almost 4 feet and hitting his ceiling. Well, maybe he could. But getting your car jacked up, is a definite boner kill, and Doug didn't want to get jacked up himself, in the penis department that is.
Doug went to grab a Smash Adams DVD. He went to put it in. The DVD player was gone. It was stolen. Doug collapsed into the armchair, his arms slumping down. Porkchop came over and licked some of the leftover cum off of his arm. "Bark, Bark!" he said.
That was two weeks ago journal.
Since then, I've begun stroking every night.
Is that weird?
I keep the semen in jars.
I don't know why. I just don't want anyone to find it.
Anyway, after all that, I went to hang out with Skeeter.
It was the week after he got done celebrating Kwanzaa...
"Go own down, he should be in there." Skeeter's mom said, as she took some fried chicken out of a skillet. "Oh and Doug hun, the chicken gonna be done in just a min, grape soda in the fridge if you want any." "No thanks, Mrs. Valentine," said Doug, as he wondered, why Skeeter always had Chicken and grape soda. Well, to be fair, in the summer they ate watermelon too.
Doug went downstairs, Skeeter was playing air turntables. Very loudly I might add. Doug was speechless. There was his DVD player. He knew it was his. Tears began streaming down his eyes. He ran blindly home. Skeeter grabbed a rag and put it on his head. "Damn it Doug wait up! Give a nigga a break, honk honk."
He didn't give a nigga a break. He ran. Far. That night he jerked off 24 consecutive times. He didn't even think of the girl. He didn't hump his pillow, he had yet to touch Porkchop, but was still very curious about the prospect. He just jerked it. It made him feel better. Tears and jerking. A deadly combination.
And that's about it journal.
Maybe this will all turn out ok, like the time I thought my bike was stolen.
But in the end, I realized something.
Skeeter is black.
He's not like me.
Can we be friends anymore?
Is race so important.
He stole my DVD player.
And I'm willing to bet he vandilized my car.
What am I gonna do?
Goodnight.
Your friend,
Doug.