The Taste of a Jock's Socks
I had never known when to stop pushing it so far.
I think a perfect example of this happened just a few days ago, which involved Lachlan, my athletic meathead of an older brother (seriously, I think he only managed an ATAR of like 68, how sad!). We never really got along very well, especially considering we were polar opposites in almost every aspect. Also involved was his best friend Chris.
Now, Chris, he is special!
I think he plays footy or some other sport for the uni? Not sure, but Jesus Christ he was hot. Lachlan always managed to surround himself with his cute athlete friends, but Chris was different. Everything about him seemed perfect to my hilariously gay eyes, from the weird things like the shape of his head to the more obvious like his bulging muscles. I think it’s safe to assume that I had a rather large crush on him from the moment I saw him.
It all happened when Mum and Dad went away on one of their weekend-long “dates” which left Lachlan to “take care of me” for the weekend. Honestly, a stupid concept as I can take care of myself, thank you very much. Anyway, we were both very much unhappy with the arrangement, which in hindsight may have provided the foundation for what happened later that cursed Friday night.
Lachlan and Chris both came into the house shortly after Mum and Dad left. God knows what they were doing, but they were both drenched in sweat and you could smell them from halfway across the damn living room. Disgusting fucking slobs. They plonked their huge bodies on the sofa and booted up the console, bringing two giant pairs of shoe-clad feet onto the perfectly fine coffee table. Thanks for that one, dickheads, I just cleaned that.
Despite wanting a better look at Chris, I instead preferred to not inhale their stench and retreated to my room. I busied myself with ignoring my homework, messaging friends, and browsing social media sites. The first mistake of that night was getting water.
Now you would think getting water should be a rather easy task, but I suppose my personal conduct got the better of me. All this pain over the weekend for a cup of water…
The fastest way to get to the kitchen was through the living room, which unfortunately meant I had to walk in front of the TV. I’m sure you can see where this is going.
Chris and Lachlan were rather intensely absorbed into whatever the fuck they were playing, and clearly did not appreciate me disturbing that.
“Oi, dickhead! You’re blocking the TV” Lachlan sneered, casting me a hateful and generally pissed-off look.
“Oh no, what a damn tragedy,” I retorted and walked past, catching another whiff of his and Chris’ post-exercise smell which was NOT PLEASANT, to say the least, “UGH! You both smell like shit, and Lachlan you’re acting like a piece of shit. For the love of God have a damn shower.”
That comment was the second mistake. The third mistake was turning my back, and continuing onwards to the kitchen without a care in the world.
That third mistake was quickly realised when I heard a quick murmur and felt two pairs of burly arms wrapped around my torso and begin to pull me away to God knows where.
That was when I realised I was in deep shit.
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