Sex, Drugs, and Rock’n’Roll Part 5
Brock knew he was in love with Jen, and he knew she was really in love with him…but he also knew he was in love with metal, probably more, and playing guitar, probably more, and writing songs, and just being creative, probably more…
Being creative, as hard as it is to believe, ranked higher than getting mind blowing blow jobs…he was sure he was a fucking weirdo to think like that…but he had kind of known that he was a weirdo his whole life.
He knew Jen was a “normy” hot chick, going to university in a few months, and he still wasn’t sure what he was doing…he had actually applied to university, and ACTUALLY, got accepted! He was actually not the least bit excited about that…
Even covered in his own cum, and watching it drip down on him, and Jen’s fucking, awesome tit’s.
While she was smacking his face with them, he was thinking about how he could write about it, and the guitar riff he would play with it…
But he really didn’t want to hurt Jen, so he did what he always did, cranked up the tunes, keep your eye on the money, off of theater, now, and lit another smoke, and put off making any kind of decision, and just enjoyed being alive, and how fucking awesome this moment was…
That is basically how he had lived his life for as long as he could remember. He knew he only scored hot chicks like Jen, because he got lucky, and won the genetic lottery. He had no game, no confidence around girls, but that never seemed to matter…
Ever since elementary school, girls…for whatever reason, they had never been an issue for Brock, And in high school, playing guitar, and really getting into bodybuilding, an odd combination, along with his love of partying, girls tended to always be interested in him.
He wasn’t sure where his lack of confidence came from, but he knew how to hide it, with comedy, and alcohol, and drugs…
He had always made peeps laugh, especially girls, but he never dwelled, too much, on why, shit was the way shit was…he just knew he was a lucky motherfucker!
He also knew he was not going to live a boring life, he had never really paid attention to anything, except things that moved him, moved something deep inside of him.
He cried a lot, not at sad things, but at any hint of greatness, of things that stirred his soul…
And he smiled, and rejoiced, at how beautiful life was, while he had a pull off a joint, and then a cig, somehow, and a drink of cold beer, somehow, with sticky gooey cum everywhere, with this goddess bouncing on his cock, listening to the smack of her ass on his thighs, while her tits were in his face and mouth, and he was trying to keep it between the ditches, listening to the Crue…
How was this possible?