My Journey - Book 3: Bows
Copyright© 2016 by Xalir
Prologue
Coming of Age Sex Story: Prologue - In the wake of Thanksgiving weekend, Matt's family learns to cope with the new reality as they clean up and face the aftermath of Exile. Follow Matt's road to recovery as they all wonder what comes next and dread the answer. Christmas is coming and each of them separately wonder whether it will be a time of celebration or mourning.
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft mt/Fa Fa/Fa ft/ft Fa/ft Teenagers Consensual Romantic Lesbian BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Celebrity Crime School Tear Jerker BDSM DomSub MaleDom Light Bond Rough Spanking Group Sex Harem Polygamy/Polyamory Interracial White Male Hispanic Female Anal Sex Analingus Cream Pie First Petting Pregnancy Safe Sex Squirting Slow
I slowly wake up and realize the day is mostly gone. I blink away my fatigue and look around. Mr. Rat is watching me curiously from near the ladder to the loft. “Yeah,” I agree. “Kind of a shitty way to kick off Thanksgiving weekend, wasn’t it?”
He squeaks and fidgets a little as if in agreement. I look down at myself and sigh. My shirt is covered in droplets of blood and I grimace. “I liked this shirt,” I complained. I sighed dramatically and shrugged. Nothing to do about it now, is there? I twist my head and look down at where my wrist is tied by the rough rope. I can see it a little better with the daylight filtering through the gaps between the boards on the walls. I’ve managed to rub my wrists raw and nod.
“Good,” I tell my friend. “They’ll expect that I tried to get free,” I explain since he seems curious about my approval of that injury. I fix him with a shrewd look and nod. “I think it’s time we gave you a name,” I tell him. “What do you think?” That meets with an agreeable squeak or what I assume is agreeable.
“Let’s see...” I muse, taking in his black eyes and brown fur. “Milton?”
No response.
“Blake?” Nothing. “Shapiro?” Nadda. “Buck?” Nope. “Irwin?” Not acceptable. “Unless ... Tiffany?”
“Squeak.”
“I apologize, Tiffany,” I say solemnly. “I thank you for watching out for me and keeping me company, even though I have grievously misjudged you.”
She approaches close enough to rest her front paws on my sneaker and look up at me, sniffing the air nervously. I chuckle. “Victoria was right,” I tell her. “I really can’t go anywhere without meeting a pretty girl.”
Tiffany must like that statement, because she scurries up the outside of my jeans and parks in my lap as we chat.
“So you see,” I tell her while I wait for it to get dark, “last night’s gentle beating wasn’t exactly my first rodeo. It looks like I’m sticking around for at least one more night though. How’d you like to come with me when I leave here. You’ve been an absolute peach of a companion, listening to me ramble on and there’s so much more to tell if you’re interested.”
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