s little story
this is not from me but someone else, who will be left unnamed, if it is well liked part 2 will come soon
Part 1:
The night was a normal night for Tom, after he got dropped off at the local hang out, the Commons; he knew his night was free. He wouldn’t be going home until 11 o clock and besides his parents were happy to get rid of him for the night, one less kid to worry about.
He started the night prowling the store fronts for younger girls he could make for the night and then forget about the next day and probably never see again, but that proved harder. It was only 6 o clock and the girls that would be easier to make weren’t out till much later, so he met up with his friends. One of them mentioned something about having a few of his fathers left over roaches in his pocket, would anyone be interested in smoking them in the trees near the local car dealership? Of course they said, but as usual a few stayed behind to waste time in front of the ticket counter at the movies making contact with girls they knew they would never really get to talking to. This was obviously not as much fun as getting the thrill and the high of smoking out in the parking lot, but then again this was the group of kids that actually cared about getting caught, the ones smoking most likely already had and in getting away with it they were back to it, what a thrill they must have felt.
So back to our friend Tom, o yes he stayed in front of the theater this time, after all it had been a week or two since his last good blow job and if he could get one tonight he would be good for a week or two, but he would worry about that later. Now for most guys this is harder then it sounds after all once you actually start a conversation with a girl you have to deal with all the bullshit that goes into the conversation until you can seduce her to take a walk with you behind the book store to what is known to the guys with a hard on as blow job alley, but to the other majority group, the stoners, it is just another place to get your kick for the time being to forget about all the complicated bullshit that you have to deal with when the bud wears off and your left in actual reality. Once you actually get a girl here the rest is as easy as pulling your pants down and somehow staying aware while you dick gets sucked, after all you have to watch for police officers, the pigs know that this shit goes on and they are just waiting to bust you and make a name for themselves in the city of Calabasas as someone who can really keep our kids out of trouble, although this is just some comfort for the security guard that makes his living walking around a teenage hangout at night being made fun of for being fat, old, or if the kid is mean enough, stupid.
Now to our young lads in the parking lot, for how would a night be a night without them, and how would a story about teenage life be existent if not for theirs. For them, or at least most of them, their Friday night process is basically the same, hang out at home smoking weed; go to commons where you will most likely smoke some more or meet a young lady who will make you feel good for the night, then go home and sleep it off only to wake up not remembering much about last night, but knowing to play it cool in case your parents suspect anything.
It starts as one of them feeling the buzz coming down and wanting to get it back. Does anyone have any weed? Yeah dude I stole some from some 7th grader down at Santa Fe Café, I don’t know if it’s any good, but its still weed. Nice lets go smoke it, and so on until these teens are in fact smoking it in some place they think is exclusive, when really it is used by countless groups to do one illegal act or another. But for now the space is empty and these kids can do what they want, on the up side its so dark that only the observer with a clear mind, such as the author, would actually be able to see a group of kids in the distance, but he would of course have to be looking for them.
This has been part one comment on this livejournal and the author, no not Lindsay, will publish the rest of the story.
Part 1:
The night was a normal night for Tom, after he got dropped off at the local hang out, the Commons; he knew his night was free. He wouldn’t be going home until 11 o clock and besides his parents were happy to get rid of him for the night, one less kid to worry about.
He started the night prowling the store fronts for younger girls he could make for the night and then forget about the next day and probably never see again, but that proved harder. It was only 6 o clock and the girls that would be easier to make weren’t out till much later, so he met up with his friends. One of them mentioned something about having a few of his fathers left over roaches in his pocket, would anyone be interested in smoking them in the trees near the local car dealership? Of course they said, but as usual a few stayed behind to waste time in front of the ticket counter at the movies making contact with girls they knew they would never really get to talking to. This was obviously not as much fun as getting the thrill and the high of smoking out in the parking lot, but then again this was the group of kids that actually cared about getting caught, the ones smoking most likely already had and in getting away with it they were back to it, what a thrill they must have felt.
So back to our friend Tom, o yes he stayed in front of the theater this time, after all it had been a week or two since his last good blow job and if he could get one tonight he would be good for a week or two, but he would worry about that later. Now for most guys this is harder then it sounds after all once you actually start a conversation with a girl you have to deal with all the bullshit that goes into the conversation until you can seduce her to take a walk with you behind the book store to what is known to the guys with a hard on as blow job alley, but to the other majority group, the stoners, it is just another place to get your kick for the time being to forget about all the complicated bullshit that you have to deal with when the bud wears off and your left in actual reality. Once you actually get a girl here the rest is as easy as pulling your pants down and somehow staying aware while you dick gets sucked, after all you have to watch for police officers, the pigs know that this shit goes on and they are just waiting to bust you and make a name for themselves in the city of Calabasas as someone who can really keep our kids out of trouble, although this is just some comfort for the security guard that makes his living walking around a teenage hangout at night being made fun of for being fat, old, or if the kid is mean enough, stupid.
Now to our young lads in the parking lot, for how would a night be a night without them, and how would a story about teenage life be existent if not for theirs. For them, or at least most of them, their Friday night process is basically the same, hang out at home smoking weed; go to commons where you will most likely smoke some more or meet a young lady who will make you feel good for the night, then go home and sleep it off only to wake up not remembering much about last night, but knowing to play it cool in case your parents suspect anything.
It starts as one of them feeling the buzz coming down and wanting to get it back. Does anyone have any weed? Yeah dude I stole some from some 7th grader down at Santa Fe Café, I don’t know if it’s any good, but its still weed. Nice lets go smoke it, and so on until these teens are in fact smoking it in some place they think is exclusive, when really it is used by countless groups to do one illegal act or another. But for now the space is empty and these kids can do what they want, on the up side its so dark that only the observer with a clear mind, such as the author, would actually be able to see a group of kids in the distance, but he would of course have to be looking for them.
This has been part one comment on this livejournal and the author, no not Lindsay, will publish the rest of the story.