Warnings for this chapter:

- short mention of underage sex

- smut


"Kujo Jotaro," Mr. Chasaki read out from the attendance list.

Jotaro raised his arm, "Present."

The teacher peered up towards the back corner desk where Jotaro sat in every class at his high school, so his height wouldn't block the view of the blackboard, "I said Kujo Jotaro."

Jotaro bristled, scanning the nearby desks, left empty by other students, "That's me, sir." It was his first day of twelfth grade. Two months before Holly got sick. Seven weeks before he got arrested. Two weeks before he decided the world around him could go fuck itself.

Mr. Chasaki's mouth twisted. The name always bothered people more than his heritage. It was understandable to be half if you were low-class, but foreign blood seeping into one of the old families really cut at something. "You understand this is an advanced class?" the teacher asked.

Jotaro formed fists beneath his desk, "Yes, sir." But by the end of class, he was itching. He rushed outside and lit a cigarette, sucking at it until the last moment, giving him just enough time to dash to his next class.

He had another at lunch, leaning against the school entrance as the smoke soothed his lungs, then searched through his bag for a meal, but Holly had forgotten. He slowly walked to Fortune Kitchen. The restaurant had perpetually-broken windows that let a draft in, and there was mold on the wall above the refrigerator, but they allowed smoking at the counter.

"Hi there, Bubba!" the cook greeted him. Jotaro had no idea where the name had come from, but he always nodded. Within minutes, he brought out his usual order of crab noodles and a can of Asahi. Lighting another cigarette, Jotaro threw back the beer in a single gulp. He flagged the cook, "Can I have another?"


Jotaro wrinkled his nose at the classroom's cracked plastic chairs and blinking fluorescent lights as he took his usual seat in the back corner. He'd somehow always imagined American universities as grand and polished. Another student came in, and he leaned back, expecting her to drift away, but instead she sat next to him. She had sleek red hair and a striking face, but was fat, her bulky figure made worse by a short, striped dress which was stretched within an inch of its life. She held out a high five, "Slacker life!"

Jotaro's brow furrowed, "What?"

"That's why we're in the back," she smiled, "So we don't have to pay attention."

He sat up straighter, "I'm planning to pay attention."

The girl shrunk back in her chair.

"I'm tall," Jotaro added quickly, "I'm back here so I don't block people's view."

"That's nice of you." The girl scanned his body in a way that made him slightly uncomfortable, "You are tall." She tipped her head to the side, "I'm Melissa, by the way." Relaxing, she slipped off her flip-flops and stretched out her legs.

Jotaro shifted, trying to move her bare feet, resting on the decaying linoleum, out of his gaze. "Jotaro."

Melissa's face scrunched, "Jolano."

"Jotaro."

"Jo Ka-"

"You can call me Jojo," he cut in.

"Jo …" Melissa's voice trailed off, "What?"

He shook his head and sighed, "Joe."

Melissa smiled, "Nice to meet you, Joe."


The instructor didn't notice Jotaro. In fact, he barely acknowledged the class before launching into a monotone introduction to biochemistry.

"Isn't he going to take attendance?" Jotaro whispered to Melissa.

"Why?" she shrugged, "If you skip, you're only cheating yourself."

The other students rarely looked in Jotaro's direction either. When it came time to pick lab partners, he expected Melissa to look away awkwardly, but instead, she squealed, "You look smart!" At lunch, Jotaro took his tray to the farthest corner of the cafeteria, expecting to eat alone, but three other students joined him, unsolicited.

At the end of the week, Melissa leaned towards his desk, "Are you coming to the kegger?"

"What's that?"

"It's a party," she laughed, "It happens every week. You should come and meet my boyfriend."

"Sure," Jotaro said, slightly relieved to learn that she wasn't making advances that he'd have to figure out how to reject. An hour later, he arrived at the beach to find a crowd of students drinking beer out of strange red plastic cups. He poured himself one, then searched for Melissa, who was standing by the fire with a man who had his arm wrapped around her. Jotaro did a double take. He almost never met anyone taller than him.

Melissa waved him over, "This is Trent."

He nodded at Jotaro, "Hi, man." Trent looked how Americans did in movies: blond-haired, blue-eyed, barrel-chested and handsome.

"Hi," Jotaro responded, "Do you go to FIU too?"

"No," Melissa cut in, "He got into the good school!"

Jotaro winced slightly.

"Come on," Trent said, "FIU's a good school too."

"I guess it's just me flunking, " Melissa laughed, then was distracted by a girl in the distance, "There's Sarah." She stepped away, but Trent caught her by her waist, fondling the ample flesh exposed by her midriff top and kissing her forehead before releasing her.

Jotaro was surprised that Trent was interested in such an unattractive career woman, but he certainly seemed to like her. "How did you and Melissa meet?"

Trent smiled, "Grew up together." He pointed up the sandbank, "Not far from here." He winked, leaning closer to Jotaro's ear, "Started fucking in her brother's treehouse when we were 12."

Jotaro let out an uneasy laugh.

"We're basically married at this point," Trent went on, "You got a girlfriend?"

Jotaro shook his head.

Trent extended his arm, "Well, take your pick. Like seventy percent of marine biology students are women." He took a sip of beer, "Count your lucky stars you're not an engineer like me."

Jotaro's shoulders stiffened, "I don't want a girl who's in college."

Trent gave him a strange look, "You'll have to make a lot of money then. Enough to pay for everything."

Jotaro shrugged.

Trent chuckled, like Jotaro had just told him a joke. He scanned the beach, then pointed at a blonde girl in the distance, "Melissa's friend Kelly's single. She's a freshman just like you."

She was a bit buxom for Jotaro's liking, but there was something else, too. He hesitated, "She reminds me of my mother."

"What?" Trent whooped.

"Growing up in Tokyo, she was the only foreign woman I knew. But a lot of girls here look just like her."

Trent's eyebrows wiggled, "That's a pickle." He sipped his beer, "Well, I hope your mom has some killer tits."

Jotaro thought of Kakyoin and froze. They would banter just like he was with Trent right now. He missed it. Jotaro forced himself back into the conversation, "I had a friend who liked her, but it was more of an ass thing."

Trent stared at him, then started to snicker, and soon both their laughter was ringing through the night.

After spending most of his Saturday reviewing schoolwork, Jotaro rummaged through his pocket for a cigarette, taking the last one from its pack. He went into the kitchen to replace it. All the packs he'd bought with Joseph, missing just the empty one in his hand, were still on the counter. Jotaro scratched his brow. He always lit up in the morning, to wake up, and in the evening, to get to sleep, but otherwise, he'd been busy. Putting a fresh pack in his pocket, he went out to the balcony, lit the final cigarette and took a long drag.

Jotaro watched people stroll along the sidewalks below. Maybe he should pick up women. He examined the passersby more closely. Who would he pick? He noticed a blonde girl, slight and slender, in a modest black dress. She even had shoes on. But she was clearly on her way to work: she wore an apron, and was rushing. He moved to another girl. She was passable, but why did she wear her jeans like that, riding all the way up into her ass?

Slowly, the sun set, and Jotaro decided it was late enough to hit the bars. He peeked through the windows of a few, finding rowdy beachgoers in swimsuits, before seeing one that was more subdued. The Midnight Anchor. A burly bouncer guarded the door, but after scanning Jotaro's pressed white suit, he opened it.

Jotaro sat at the bar, inspecting the other patrons. The women were better dressed than outside, almost elegant. He focused on one at the end of the bar. She had quite a good figure, though her ass was a bit meager, but as gestured for a drink, she evoked Holly, not just in her blond hair and soft face, but the way she held her purse, the way she touched her necklace before speaking. He turned back towards the bar.

"Welcome," a bartender boomed.

Jotaro scanned the taps behind him, "Stella, please."

A glass appeared, and Jotaro sipped it, then noticed a woman hovering nearby. She was dark, maybe Italian, and wore a black dress that clung to her body. Of course, she had to ruin the look with scant, beaded, sandals. But she didn't look like Holly at all. Jotaro scanned her figure. Long, slender legs. Round ass. Huge breasts, which he found sloppy and vulgar, but, damn, they moved something in him. He sighed, "Can I get you a drink?"

The girl feigned surprise at his attention. "Thank you. A martini." She sat down next to Jotaro. "Where are you from?"

His shoulders tightened, "Tokyo. I just moved here."

"You don't look Japanese," She tilted her head, examining his face with a strange smile, "Oh, I can see it! The eyes."

Jotaro stared back at her.

"I'm Gina." She met his stony expression with a soft smile, "I'm on vacation from Phoenix. Leaving tomorrow." She moaned the last part, like it was a tragedy.

Jotaro took a long sip of beer, "Have you ever seen a Trogan?"

"A what?"

"A bird." He took another swig, "Phoenix is the only place in the Northern Hemisphere they migrate."

Gina gave him a strange look, "I don't think so."

He shrugged, "That's the only thing I know about Phoenix."

She giggled, "Well, let me tell you some more. There's four major league sports teams …" Jotaro let her talk for a long while, about local bars, about her friends, every detail more boring than the last. He interjected sporadic notes of agreement as she drained her glass. When she was finished, she returned it to the bar, fingering it awkwardly. He should probably buy her another one. But did he really have to spend another half an hour listening to her talk?

But he wanted to touch her. He laid his hand on her waist, burying his fingers in the soft cloth of her dress. "Do you want to come home with me?"

Gina's lip curled, and she pulled away, but not quite out of his grasp.

"Let's have some more drinks." He stroked her hip, coaxing her back towards him. "I have some Japanese beers you can try," he added, though his fridge was completely empty.

She relaxed a bit.

Jotaro moved his face closer to hers, "It's your last night here."

She hesitated, then smiled, "Alright."


"Your apartment's so nice," Gina squealed as Jotaro closed the door behind her. He cut her words off with a kiss. She pulled away, giggling, "Let me take off my shoes."

They weren't shoes, they were soles attached to pieces of string, but Jotaro let her go, hanging his jacket and taking off his loafers, as she unbuckled them. As soon as she was standing up straight, he kissed her again.

"I thought we were going to have drinks," she protested.

Moving his head back, Jotaro gave her a roguish look, "So did I."

She let out an exasperated laugh, but leaned towards him.

Her lips were soft. Her dress was soft. He ran his hands down the back, then grasped her ass, feeling the flesh and the cloth. His hands wandered down, finding her exposed, legs where they lingered, slowly shifting to the soft insides of her thighs. After lingering for a moment, he moved his hands back up her legs. They slipped beneath her dress, finding a bit of ass, and then- He suddenly realized she wasn't wearing any underwear.

"Surprise," she giggled. Why was she still talking? She leaned back and caught his eyes, like she wanted some sort of answer.

He was done playing. He was done buying her drinks, having perfunctory conversations, when she was standing, with no underwear on, in his living room. Grabbing her by the arm, he pulled her to his bedroom and sat her down on his bed.

Jotaro undressed methodically, hanging his shirt, putting his belt in its drawer, then hanging his pants. He pulled off his boxers, dropping them in the laundry basket, before turning back to Gina.

She was staring at him, flushed, biting her lip nervously. Her mouth was at the perfect height. He walked towards her, right up to the edge of the bed and brushed his swelling cock against her cheek.

"Take it," he whispered.

Hesitating, she ran her tongue down his length, eliciting a hiss, then took him in her mouth all at once. Jotaro grasped her shoulders for balance, letting out a strained sound. Every swish of the tongue, every motion, sent shockwaves through his body. He growled, wrapping his fingers around the back of her head, and pumping his hips until he gasped. He was far too close. He withdrew.

Gina tittered, shooting Jotaro an amused smile, which irritated him. He pushed her back by her shoulders, so she was lying down, facing her, and straddled her legs. He slowly lifted her dress, revealing a tuft of hair, then peeled it up further. A tattoo appeared, right below her left breast, blue waves with a floating beach ball. Jotaro tried to put it out of his mind, as her breasts spilled out, bouncing, swaying, before they settled. Gina helped him get the dress over her head, and threw it on the floor.

Jotaro stared down at her giant tits, the tattoo was still glaring. He put his face between them. It was strange and lewd, but filled him with unexpected calm. He sucked each nipple in turn. He could hear Gina's breath. He could feel her slowly relax beneath him. He was absolutely throbbing. Spreading her legs, he caught her scent. Was it even possible to get any harder?

He slid into her with a whimper. It was incredible. He was poor, malnourished. His battered body needed this. He cried out with every thrust. She was a vortex, and he was trapped. Powerless. It felt so unimaginably good. He thrust and thrust, pushing himself into oblivion.