Invisible Lines: Prologue  

Things that go black and white shouldn’t just be in comic books or a specific time in a timeline where we all fall to be forgotten. We are programmed within our society to be what we all loath. Perfection. Normality. Falling within the structures of a boundary where it is okay to fail however it is forbidden to stand out.

That’s how I met him.

No. No. No. That’s how I came to loath him from a distance, yet here I was watching constantly but to be more exact, the way he behaved in front of others. Distance was key but the dark lines that hid beneath his face and personality were what drew my attention.

Have you ever found that one perfect person who just ignites the veins of blood within your body on fire? What about that one perfect other half you simply run into and you suddenly want to rip off their clothes? It’s not about wanting a relationship or anything from that sudden stranger. No promises. No personal information. Just heated passion and a set of wet panties that’ll stick to the wrecked mound afterwards.

If you haven’t found that person... Be jealous. I guess you can say we had more than hot sex but easily something past primal. Predator and prey. I can still recall the tiny drops of sweat coalesced down every single curve of my body. The way my chest rose and fell each time. Yes, It wasn’t just one time. Going from nothing but a view to unknowing when he would walk in and be favored by the room itself. He wasn’t quite the lower class.. Even with the lowers welcomed to stand in the presence of those on top, it left room for the variation of species. Nothing was ever left for the imagination or even the wishing. Darkness was among the living but here.. It was.. Beauty.

It started happening every time I saw him. Every time I actually heard his voice... It achieved in making my heart pound against it’s boned cage underneath my very flesh, everything in me just wanted him to carve me up. There were many nights where I spent the time building anger and hatred towards this guy.

Easy fuck was the usual topic when gossip came and rotated around him. It wasn’t just that, there was often bad talk about this sexy beast that I dared call Pussy Boi. His reputation is how I came up with that nickname, “Pussy Boi.” No one knew better than myself how much he hated that name.

Now don’t let me get of myself- I remember each time I had to sit back and just watch him laugh or flirt about. Occasionally making a joke or two that was suited to appease the crowd, like it was important to laugh. He had his own way of standing out even when he wasn’t wanted by the ones above him. It wasn’t many in fact just my own group of friends. We were on top. No, I was on top.

He always had an edgy smile that was sometimes more than difficult to resist, even from a distance. It wasn’t bad at first, this watching and observing, until I started getting myself attached to this.. This person. I didn’t even know him!

There wasn’t a real introduction but I knew what his name was. Being on top had its privileges of knowing who was who except without it being high school. I eventually found myself lacking sleep and stalking the nights to run across his company from afar. Sometimes I’d feel jealous of the ones who had achieved in retrieving a caress or his words even. It was encouraged attention that I, myself, was starting to wish I had. It wasn’t about the attention of being on top or my group.. It was about having his attention specifically.  

Each of those stalked nights and encased jealousy.. Did in fact eventually lead me somewhere.. It let me straight to his bed.

Let me rewind just a little and start with the first time I masturbated at the actual thought of him. Using my fingers and a well constructed silicon fake cock to deliver pleasure in every worshiping manner within my mind. How could I ever betray myself within that form of pleasure? I’ll tell you how, I got to know him. It wasn’t sexual at first.

“Dear Pussy Boi…”