I got the oddest feeling while Preppy stood there, not making a sound. Almost like he needed this for some reason. Needed to see what normal fucking looked like.

Like he needed to be a part of what we were doing.

Preppy was one of my best friends.

So I let him.

It was the quietest he’d ever been. Since the day we’d met, I’d never known him to go more than a few seconds without talking, but as I thrust my dick harder and harder into the girl, he was almost stoic. When I noticed he was staring at her tits, I yanked her poor excuse for a shirt—a small scrap of silk—up to her neck, so he could get a good look at them bouncing up and down as I fucked her.

His eyes glowed in appreciation and he nodded his thanks.

Figuring out Preppy was hard. From what King had told me about his past, he’d had a rough start in life. We all had. Preppy a little harder than most, but he never talked about it.

Ever.

I didn’t fault him for that. I didn’t exactly ever want to talk about my old man either.

The thing was that Preppy could get girls.

He did get girls.

He wasn’t as tall as me or King, but he was still tall. He was still ripped to shreds, which came easier to him than it did for me because he started out a skinny kid, but when he started working out, he went right to ripped and lean. Other than a few inches of height and a few pounds of muscle he had something that both King and I were seriously lacking on some days.

Humor.

Personality.

Wit.

Charm.

When the girl’s pussy started to clench around my dick, the squeezing sensation caused my balls tighten. I looked over to Preppy who was as still as I’d ever seen him. No twitching or shoving his hands in his pockets or running his hands through his hair. Just looking. Watching. Observing.

I was getting close so I shoved the girl down on the toolbox so that her back was flush against the diamond shaped metal. I held on to her shoulders as I plowed into her, making sure to drag my cock along the front walls of her pussy as I pulled in and out. Her larger than average tits bounced up and down, and as soon as she came I followed her over, although it was more like a sneeze than a come because I was more preoccupied thinking about our company and what it meant that he was there, than I was about actually getting off.

“That was…wow,” the girl said, sitting up. I pulled out of her and tugged off the condom, throwing it in a nearby trashcan. “Wanna go again?” she asked, wrapping her long legs around my waist and digging her heels into my back, pulling me forward.

“You want more?” I asked, holding her face in my hands. She reached out and licked one of my fingers.

“Yes, please. Give me more,” she begged.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Preppy making a quiet move to leave out of the side door. “Prep,” I called out. He stilled. I unwrapped the girl’s legs from around me and took a step back, tucking myself back into my pants. “Why don’t you come over here and take care of this beautiful girl? She says she needs more and I’m not so sure I have much more to give her.”

At first Spring Break Chick was startled of Preppy’s presence in the room and looked at me like she was in shock, but as soon as Preppy stepped into the light, she smiled as if I’d just given her a puppy. He legs were still spread, her wetness glistening for him to see.

Slowly Preppy moved closer and closer, his gaze focused between her legs.

In my mind, I wasn’t just offering to share a girl with Preppy, I was offering him a chance at normalcy. A chance to just fuck and not be so caught up in the hows or whys of it all.

“Have at her bro,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder I left him to it and made my way back over to the party. I wasn’t ten feet away from the garage when I heard the scream. It wasn’t the kind of scream she’d made when I made her come, but the kind of scream that said “Someone just stabbed me,” I turned and ran back as fast as I could.

And sure enough…

The girl was no longer on the toolbox, but laid out on the floor on her side, crawling away from Preppy at snail speed, but where a snail left slime in his tracks, the girl left blood.

“He fucking stabbed me!” she shouted, grabbing her thigh which still had a pair of silver scissors sticking out of the top, gushing blood with her every movement. Preppy stared wide-eyed at the trail of blood and at the blood on his fingers, but didn’t make a move to help or even flee.

He just stood there with an unreadable expression on his face.

I picked the girl up and carried her out of the garage. One of the BBBs stitched up her leg and called her a cab home. I gave her a few hundred bucks to keep her mouth shut, and Preppy and I never talked about it again.

But I still felt him watching.

The next time I brought a girl into the garage and called him over, he looked worried. “I can’t,” he said, even after the girl said she was game.

“You want me to stay?” I asked in my most reassuring voice, wondering where it was in his fucked up mind that he went when sex was involved and what was causing the intensity that radiated off of him like he was a different person when he was watching. An entirely different version of Preppy. What shocked me most was that in place of his usual sarcastic and obnoxious demeanor, he was tentative. Shy.

It creeped me the fuck out.

Yet, I wanted to fix it for him somehow.

“Come here, baby,” the girl said, parting her legs. I sat up on the toolbox next to her and lifted off her shirt. I played with her nipples while Preppy suited up and pushed inside.

After a few seconds, Preppy looked up at me, his eyes dark and menacing. He looked like a fucking demon. “I want to hurt her,” he whispered. The girl, so involved in Preppy’s dick, thank fuck, she hadn’t heard him.

I shook my head, there would be no more scissor play if I had anything to do with it. “Watch, I’ll do it for you,” I said. I grabbed the girl’s throat in my hands and squeezed just enough to make it uncomfortable for her, but not enough to actually cause pain. She moaned and gagged at the same time.

“She likes that,” Preppy said, looking completely dumbfounded. He rammed into her at a furious pace while I held onto her tight. When I grabbed a handful of the girl’s red curls in my fist and pulled, ripping a scream from her throat, it sent him over the edge and he came with a groan before collapsing onto the floor.

I picked the girl off the tool box and started to pull her away from the garage. “Is he going to be okay?” she asked looking back, but I didn’t let her stop. It was better to let him recover than to leave him there alone with the girl and have to deal with the very real possibility it wouldn’t just be a thigh he carved into the next time.