Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
“Yep!” she giggles. “Enjoy, Mr. Wright!” But as she turns to walk away, Jake reaches out and smacks her ass. I think she’ll probably slap him, but to my surprise, she simply yelps playfully, then looks over her shoulder at Jake invitingly as she walks seductively to the golf cart. Jake is an asshole. How does he get away with behavior like this? It must be his looks and charm. And money, I guess. It always comes back to the money.
But it seems my friend wants some action. He glances at me and grunts, “I won’t be long.” Then, that asshole follows the girl to the golf cart. Is he for real? Really, right here on the green, where other players could materialize at any moment?
But what Jake wants is what he gets, and soon, I can hear Roxy moaning from over by the bushes. For fuck’s sake. Does Jake need to take literally every opportunity that comes his way? Couldn’t they get a hotel room later tonight, instead of doing it here on the green? But then I shrug, remembering that I probably wasn’t much different until very recently.
I look at my watch and see it’s only 2 p.m. It’ll be at least three more hours before Jasmine comes home, and then maybe we’ll grill up some steaks and enjoy ourselves. But that pleasant thought is interrupted by a particularly loud moan, and I glance over at the golf cart to see Jake taking Roxy doggie-style on the front seat. She’s gasping as her big breasts sway, gripping the steering wheel while her entire body shudders. Goddamn, this is boring.
I hit some balls just to pass the time and look up at the sky again. Nope, no rain today. We didn’t need to bring a golf umbrella at all, even if I wish it would shower just so we could move on. Fortunately, it’s not long before I hear Roxy’s loud squeal of a climax, along with Jake’s panting and grunting as he comes. Then, there’s a dirty squelching sound, some low voices, and the rumble of the golf cart leaving. Finally, my buddy saunters over, his hair askew.
“Told you I wouldn’t be long,” Jake jokes, slightly out of breath and still zipping up his pants. I shake my head. What a fucking asshole.
“Yeah, what are you, fourteen?” I throw back.
He shrugs.
“Hey, she wanted it.”
I merely shake my head before taking out my phone to check the time. But Jake catches a glimpse of a picture of Jasmine that serves as my wallpaper, and whistles. It’s a picture of my girlfriend pressing her wet naked body against the glass wall of my shower, her huge tits pressed flat and fanning out pornographically. I took it on a whim while she was teasing me the other day, but it turned out really well, kind of artistic even. But art is not what’s on Jake’s mind.
“Damn,” he growls. “Who’s that?”
“Watch your mouth,” I snarl back, surprising him.
“Yo yo yo,” he grunts. “Back off, buddy. Are you in love with her, or something?” I pocket my phone and glare at him, letting my eyes flash.
“Who said that?” I demand.
“Relax, dude,” he says, both hands up in a peace gesture. “Seriously, what’s up with you today?” I sigh and try to calm down. This territoriality around Jasmine is new, and it still takes me by surprise. I know Jake doesn’t mean anything because this is how we always talk. Or at least, it’s how we used to. It’s me who’s changed, and it’s thrown us both for a loop.
“Yeah, actually,” I state, clearing my throat.
“Yeah, what?” Jake asks, his eyebrows rising.
“Yeah, I have feelings for her,” I rasp. “So watch what you say. This one’s different.”
“Clearly,” replies Jake, looking impressed. “But dude, don’t you have a harem?”
I shrug.
“So do you. That doesn’t mean that you don’t get attached.”
After all, Jake Wright has one of the biggest harems in New Jersey. That fucker used his dad’s money to purchase a multi-million dollar estate out in Closter, and he’s got naked girls running around 24/7. Not only that, but his girls are real young. There are no women over twenty-five, from what I understand.
But still, the harem thing is a tizzy.
“Jasmine was never a member of my group,” I growl. “It’s her mom who is.”
Jake squints.
“Are you kidding me?” he asks. “You have women old enough to be mothers?”
I roll my eyes.
“Yes. And she has an adult daughter as well.”
He whistles.
“Goddamn, buddy. I wouldn’t want your harem if you gave it to me on a silver platter. So how old is this Jasmine chick?” he asks.
“Eighteen,” I reply begrudgingly. I’ve come to terms with the huge age gap between us, but in my more doubtful moments about the morality of our relationship, I still wonder if what I’m doing is right.