“Hey buddy!” I said with fake enthusiasm, slapping Troy on the back.
We’d immediately seen Kyleigh. Or Kyleigh Version Two, would probably be the more appropriate description. She was completely different from the beanpole teen we’d humiliated so many times. Instead of a toothpick frame, the woman before us had gorgeous curves, a full, bodacious bosom narrowing to a tiny waist, plus hips that swung and taunted a man. And shit, but that dress hugged every inch of her figure, making us pant for more.
I’d heard Roman gasp involuntarily when we saw her because she was so gorgeous. Even now, I could feel blood rushing down, filling my prick so that it was semi-hard. Fuck, I’m around beautiful starlets all the time, and yet one look at my stepsister and I was getting a stiffy in public?
“Hey Roman, hey Ryder,” greeted Troy. “GO BEAVERS! BOOYA!” he yelled, pumping a fist, looking for other members of the lacrosse team. It was sad, really, how some people peaked during high school. But Roman and I weren’t here to re-live lacrosse memories.
“Hey Ky,” I greeted Kyleigh, letting my gaze run over her figure again. She flushed, a beautiful pink staining her cheeks, her complexion a perfect peaches and cream.
“Hello,” she said quietly.
“Hi!” interrupted a plump girl at her side. “I’m Gemma,” she said, sticking out her hand.
Oh right. I remembered Gemma now, the girl with bad skin. Well, at least that’d cleared up, although she was dressed in a black garbage sack, no doubt from some famous designer.
“Hey hey hey!” boomed Troy again. “How are the reality TV stars?” he roared. Farmingdale was already getting on my nerves, and we’d only been back two minutes.
“TV is good,” said Roman smoothly. “I’m a licensed real estate broker. I help buyers find homes which they then renovate under my brother’s guidance. It’s a good gig and our clients come out really happy,” he added.
“Any cameras here?” chuckled Troy, ducking his head in weird directions as if to avoid a camera lens.
“No, we’re not shooting today,” said Roman. “Besides, we wouldn’t want to pass out liability waivers to everyone,” he added, nodding to the gathering crowd.
“I wanna be on TV!” thundered Troy. “You owe it to me! Thunder buddies for life!”
Okay, at this point, it was getting out of hand. Troy was clearly really drunk, and even his wife was trying to get him to calm down by grabbing his arm while whispering ineffectively.
But before anyone could hustle him away, Troy went overboard.
“Yah fuckers, remember that party we had at your house with the whores? The whores you fucked? And then her …” he said pointing at Kyleigh. “She fell on the ground with her panties down, her fingers buried in her pussy. Remember that?” he yelled, loud enough for the crowd to hear.
Kyleigh’s lower lip started to tremble and her eyes to fill with tears. Fuck this shit. Seeing our stepsister vulnerable and humiliated … I don’t know, it really disgusted me now.
“Shut up,” I growled, my stance threatening. Beside me, I could feel Roman tensing as well. We’re six-four and muscular, so it wasn’t exactly an empty threat. “Shut the fuck up,” I said for emphasis.
“Yeah, yeah,” replied Troy. “We’re leaving,” he muttered, turning to go. I calmed, thinking the storm was over. But at the last moment, Troy reached over and slapped Kyleigh, his hand hitting her face with a loud SMACK.
“That’s for being a whore,” he raged.
It was too much. Roman and I launched ourselves at Troy, pummeling our former friend. The loser was nothing but a bag of flabby, sickening fat. At first, he tried to fight back, but he was simply too out of shape, and we began beating him, knocking his head to the floor, kicking his ribs, and punching wherever possible.
“Stop! Stop!” shrieked Troy’s wife, trying to pull us off. Maybe it was the fact that the tiny woman literally put herself in harm’s way, or the fact that Troy was on the ground cowering, not even trying to fight back. But my brother and I pulled off, straightening our clothes as we caught our breaths, looking with disgust at the pathetic figure curled on the floor.
“Shut the fuck up, motherfucker,” I grunted to his silent form.
Troy twitched a bit, his teeth broken and jagged as blood streamed around him.
“Fuck you pretty boys,” he mumbled, barely understandable. And that just made me kick him again.