The Education of a Scoundrel

I admit it, I like to eavesdrop. I park my ears by people I don’t know and listen to what they’re talking about. I’m not a gossip; I rarely if ever pass on what I hear. But I enjoy being in on other berks’ secrets. Sometimes it gets me in trouble, but most of the time it’s worth it.

This one time in college, many moons ago, I overheard two guys in the school cafeteria talking about a girl one of them had met who lived a few blocks from the campus. “Dude,” the taller of the two guys said, “this girl was out mowing her lawn around noon last Tuesday in shorts and a tube top. She was gorgeous, blonde hair down her back and totally tanned and had a great body. She was pushing that mower around, working up a sweat. I had just picked up some beers from the store up the street and I offered her one. We started chatting and before I knew it we were inside her house and she was sucking me off…” Well, this obviously peaked more than just my curiosity, so I listened intently, quietly taking notes about when and where this guy had met the girl.

The following week I started to reconnoitrer the area the guy had described to his friend. Eventually I saw a girl who matched the description he had given and I made a note of her address. When I had the money I went and bought some “refreshments'' and set out to meet her. Sure enough, there she was, mowing her lawn in cut-offs and a wife-beater, soaked with sweat, her braless breasts visible to all through her transparent shirt. “You’re melting, want a beer?” I told her, and that was all that was needed to start a conversation that led to a shower for two to get rid of the sweat and grime of all that work in the yard. Sure enough, this girl, her name was Cheryl, admitted she loved sex and liked it best with strangers. “You’re cute,” she told me, “we should do this again. But only till it gets boring.” Thank you G-d!

Cheryl mowed her lawn and I ploughed her field a couple of times a week from then on. (Okay, she didn’t actually mow that often, but she worked on the yard every Tuesday.) I thought everything was going great. I was getting sex from a hot girl and not paying for it or being asked for a commitment of any kind. I knew I wasn’t the only one (I actually saw other guys coming and going now and then), but I didn’t really care if she was a doorknob, so long as I got a turn. In my innocence about the nature of life I thought this would last forever and no one would get hurt. But karma needed to be balanced, what goes up must come down eventually.

One day I just showed up at the wrong time. We had smoked some weed and were going at it in her upstairs bedroom. Cheryl knew I was about to cum and wanted me spray on her face and tits. I stood up and took off my rubber as she knelt in front of me. As my organ twitched and shot its first stream of gooeyness on her face the bedroom door opened. It was her husband…

“Sonofabitch!” he screamed, “You’re a dead man. I’m getting my shotgun!” As I stood there with my cock in my hand my life flashed before my eyes. “You’re married?” I squealed. “Of course I am, who did you think paid for the house?” she replied. I heard him coming up the stairs and snapped back to the situation at hand, running around the room trying to grab my clothes. Click. I hear his gun load. I tried to head out of the room and saw him coming straight for me. There was no way to get past him. I was trapped in that bedroom. I saw the window and took a running leap.

As I crashed through the pane of glass shoulder first, naked, holding my clothes in a ball pressed against my chest it occurred to me that I had no idea what I was going to land on top of. Would it be a cactus? Concrete? A wood-chipper? Then I felt a shotgun blast whoosh through my hair and realized it wouldn’t matter if he shot me instead. I landed on top of a hedge, rolled on to my feet and hit the ground running. I ended up running down the driveway past his car. “BANG!” A shot rang out and I instinctively jogged to one side. It missed by inches. “BANG!” Another shot led to “CRACK!” He hit his car and a headlight exploded. “AAAUUGH!” I screamed as pieces of glass from the headlight pierced my backside. “FUCK! I shot my car!” I heard him yell. I kept running, I heard one more shot but it hit a tree as I turned around their neighbour’s house and ran into an alley past some old ladies taking out their trash. “Pardon me, just passing through…” I said quickly as I hid behind a rubbish bin to put my clothes on (though not before removing splinters of glass from the back of my thigh and rump).

I limped back to campus and told the school nurse some slaad-story about falling on a broken bottle so she’d bandage me up. Once I was healed up I called Cheryl, told her we were definitely not meeting at her house again. We continued our thing for a while, just in other locations, before she got “bored” and moved on. I learned some important lessons and got an interesting scar on my bum that took years to fade away. First, knowledge really is power, but that power is a two edged sword. On the one hand, knowing about Cheryl got me laid on a regular basis for several months, but on the other hand, what I didn’t know, namely that her husband was arriving home from his job on the road early came uncomfortably close to getting me killed. Second, a cold beer on a hot day can help people connect and just being friendly can open doors for you. Third, always have an escape route! You don’t want to be caught with your pants down, so know where you are and be aware of your environment. Fourth, and to me the most important, NEVER HAVE SEX ABOVE THE FIRST FLOOR OF A HOUSE!