Since Amanda’s return a few days earlier, Frankie and Bill seldom spoke to one another. Most of the time, she wasn’t home, and specifics were never given about where she was going or where she went upon her nightly returns. Earlier that morning, Frankie’s male friends from the group encounter Bill witnessed picked her up. Hugs and kisses on the cheek greeted Amanda, but only a perfunctory hand raise to Bill. That moment was when Bill remembered them coming to pick Frankie up during her high school days. That moment was also when Bill saw them as more than Frankie’s debauched companions from a gangbang etched into his memory.
Being inside the house and watching television had grown tiresome, so he went along with Amanda to the mall for her shopping trip. Nothing, in particular, he wanted to buy, although he welcomed a remedy to alleviate the misery in his soul.
Amanda spotted dresses in a clothing store window and was filing inside to get a closer look when Bill held her wrist and pointed down the hall to the bathrooms.
“Hey, Mandy, I’m gonna walk around for a bit while you deal with that business in there, alright.” Bill pointed back at the clothing store and twirled his finger.
“Big surprise. You’ve never been into shopping for clothes. I’ll give you a ring when I’m ready to leave, okay?”
He nodded and headed straight to the bathroom. All four urinals were occupied, so he entered a stall, locked the door and conducted business. After shaking and putting his equipment away, he reached into his pocket and opened the messaging app. He scrolled through less than five chats until spotting the name Piss-Ant. A snicker tickled his throat, and he updated the contact to Frankie, opened the chat and typed:
“Hey, kid, I know we haven’t talked a lot since that morning.”
Backspace.
“Let’s talk later on, eh? Not having actual conv–”
Backspace.
“This is stupid. What am I even doing?” His thumb hovered over the return button but then changed course to three vertical dots in the upper-right corner and clicked twice for media. Frankie’s video from her second day lay eager for play, but Bill released the latch and peeped out first. The room was empty, so he relatched the door, hit play and turned the volume down enough that he could hear, but no one else should. The differences between the Frankie in the video and the one he witnessed first-hand during Amanda’s absence were as stark as could be.
The main door did not open since he last checked, so he unzipped his pants and drooled onto his palm. He rubbed the low-tech lubricant over his helmet and stroked his hardening shaft to Frankie’s filthy words, squishing pussy and depraved facial expressions. A building climax was interrupted by the main door’s opening, so pausing the video proved best. He had no choice but to exercise a bit of patience until the intruder left.
“Didn’t even wash their goddamn hands. People today.”
He resumed his video and stroking with the hope of getting back to where he was before the interruption.
“You wish this was your cock, don’t you?” Frankie’s video form uttered, dildoing her wet opening. “You wish this was your cock fucking my tight, young pussy, huh? This hot, wet cunt? Uh-huh?”
