Hadrian's WallChapter 6 free porn video

Summer snuck up on me before I knew it, and when school ended, I found myself at loose ends. I was seventeen! I wanted to be out there. I wanted to go to parties, to go play baseball, go to the beach and scope out hot girls in bikinis. What I didn’t want was to do those things alone.

We did fly out to attend Uncle Marty and Christy’s wedding. It was a small family affair, no pun intended, and we only stayed two days before flying back. Mom had a big case coming up.

I didn’t get to do more than chat with the girls, but it was nice. Both Jessica and Debbie hinted that they wouldn’t mind some alone time, but Janet had a steady guy she was serious about and was little more than friendly, acting a little awkward around me.

When we got back Bill and I hung out a little, but he had found himself a girl in April, named, get this, April. They were thick as thieves and I was the third wheel. One disastrous attempt at a blind date that April set up with her cousin was enough to send me on my merry way.

It was, almost, funny.

“Leo, come on man! April says she is way cute, is only in town for a couple of weeks and is looking for a summer romance. This is like a sure thing!” Bill had assured me, and I was bored enough to think it might be okay.

“Okay, fine. Where and when?”

“Dude, be here at nine in the morning. We are hitting the beach, lunch on the boardwalk, home to shower and change. If things go well, we are thinking dinner and a movie, maybe go up to Wilson point for the submarine races, eh?”

It did sound like fun.

Just before nine the following morning I was standing in front of Bill’s house. He only lived a couple of doors down so I didn’t bother driving. He had a car large enough for all of us, and if he said he wanted me to drive mine, it was a two minute walk back.

Bill was just coming out of the house with a big ice chest. he stringy arms straining at the weight so I jumped in to help out, tucking it under my arm and bending to grab the towel I had dropped.

“Showoff!”

“String Bean!”

A fist-bump and we were off.

April only live a few miles away, so we pulled up there just after nine and Bill bounded out of the car to knock on the door. I had gotten out as well, to be polite, but leaned up against the car figuring the girls would be right out.

Angelica was April’s cousin, and was described to me as an easy nine out of ten. At first glance, when she followed a happy April out of the door, that seemed surprisingly accurate.

She was a redhead, with flowing, flaming locks that reached the middle of her back. She was not as pale as some I had seen and had a nice, creamy complexion peppered with enough freckles to make a fellow want to play connect the dots.

She had full, kissable lips, bright green eyes and a smile, when she talked with April on the way down the steps, that seemed warm and friendly.

She was about five foot five, maybe a hundred and ten pounds and had a great shape. A large B cup, probably, with a flat, trim stomach and just enough curve to her hips to give her that sexy, saucy walk. I couldn’t see the back from where I leaned on the car, but I was willing to bet it was every bit as nice.

As the turned towards the car. Angelica froze, her eyes narrowing and nose wrinkling as if she had smelled something awful. When her lip came up into a snarl and she glared at April, being the observant man that I am, I sensed something was amiss.

“April, really? Jesus Christ!” her voice was shrill and angry. She folded her arms across her chest and stopped dead, glaring back and forth between April and me. I actually turned around to see if there was someone behind me, someone that Angelica hated.

Nope.

Straightening up, I walked slowly over towards the group, a safe, non-threatening smile on my face, and introduced myself.

“Hi, I’m Leo, a friend of Bills.” I stuck out my hand, and almost pulled back a bloody stump.

“You can fuck right off, meathead. I don’t do roidboys.” Angelica snarled at me, her eyes sparking with anger.

“Whoa ... slow down, Miss. Did I do something to make you angry?” I asked, holding up my hands as though to ward off an attack.

“You fucking exist!” she shouted, turning around and stalking back towards the house. When she got to the front door, she found it locked and actually screamed in frustration.

She turned back, took a deep breath and in a voice that was only slightly warmer than absolute zero, asked, “April, would please unlock the door?”

“Angelica, you come an apologize to Leo. He is one of the nicest guys I know, next to Bill, and I cannot believe you would treat a perfect stranger like this. What is wrong with you?”

Angelica turned and opened her mouth but nothing came out. She raised her arm, her finger pointing accusingly at me, and still nothing came out.

We watched, in a sort of sick fascination, as Angelica seemed to crumple and cave in on herself. She ended up sitting on the top step, her face in her hands.

April ran up the steps and crouched in front of her, whispering something too soft for Bill and I to hear, while we just looked at each other and shrugged.

“She’s hot though, right?” Bill said with a lopsided grin. The look of pain on his face when I slugged him in the shoulder made me grin, for a moment at least.

“She is...” he muttered, glaring at me.

The girls were talking quietly for a quite a while. Bill, never one to stand on ceremony, popped the trunk, got out a couple of soda for us and a couple more for the girls, then turned on the car stereo just loud enough for us to hear, but not loud enough to annoy the neighbors.

He walked up and set the sodas on the step below April, then backed away, as if afraid to turn his back until he was out of reach.

We sat on the trunk of his car and talked.

“I have no idea. Seriously. I mean, April said she had broken up with a guy a month or so ago, and was ready to get back with it, you know? She was looking for a summer guy, someone to hang out with, have fun with. Sounded perfect for you. You seem to chase all the girls you like away in a couple of weeks anyway.”

That last line was said at speed, as he circled the car out of reach.

Meh. I wasn’t going to hit him, he had a good point.

“Leo?” I heard April call me, got a shrug from Bill, and hopped down to go see how I was wrong this time.

They were sitting side by side, both watching me.

I stopped a couple of steps down so our eyes were all on the same level.

“Leo, Angelica has something she would like to say.” April said primly, looking at her cousin.

Angelica rolled her eyes, but met my gaze squarely.

“I am sorry if I was a bitch, Leo. It was unfair of me to be prejudiced against you because every muscle-bound meathead I have ever met has a tiny dick and is overcompensating by lifting weights and smacking around women.”

“Angelica!” April gasped, scandalized.

“What?”

“Leo, I am sorry I got you involved with my ungrateful, stuck up, hard-headed bitch of a cousin. I’ll ask Bill to give you a ride home.” April said, fuming. She stood up and stalked down the stairs.

Angelica had a pained look on her face.

“April, wait. Please? I am sorry!” she called after her cousin.

April stopped, but didn’t turn around. “Do it right or I swear to god I will never speak to you again. Leo is a friend, a great guy, and doesn’t deserve to be treated like shit because you had a bad boyfriend experince.”

“Leo, look, I am sorry, okay? It really isn’t your fault and I totally shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I am not going to lie, if I had know you were one of ... that you were a were someone who works out a lot,” she paused and shot a look towards April, “then I would have declined and we could have avoided this.”

“Angelica, I am sorry that just being here provoked such a strong reaction in you. I’ll ask Bill give me a ride back to my house so I don’t ruin the day for everyone.”

I turned to walk back down the steps, rolling my eyes at Bill. April stopped me though and gave me a hug, which had to have been to rub her cousin’s nose in it, because she had never touched me other than when we shook hands the first time I met her.

Back at the car, I shrugged and asked Bill for a ride. “Just drop me off so you can get back here. I think I’ll go work out” I said with a grin and got in the front seat.

“WAIT! Fuck! Just wait a minute, okay?” Angelica was standing there talking to April but her hand was out to us, as though directing traffic. I don’t know what they were discussing, but neither of them looked particularly happy.

“Dude, just go. This is not going to work and everyone is going to be upset.” I said, shaking my head, and even Bill was starting to look annoyed, and he was the easiest going guy I had ever met.

He hopped out and rested his arm over the hood, sticking two fingers in his mouth and let out a whistle that had, at a junior high basketball game, brought the game to a halt and silenced an entire gymnasium while everyone tried to identify where it had come from.

The shocked look on both of their faces was funny as hell!

“April, baby, call me later. I am taking Leo home and we are going to hang out. Let me know if you want to get some dinner and see a movie or something.” he said, then popped back into the car and started the engine. He had turned in his seat to make sure the street was clear and was backing out when April slammed her hand on the hood to get his attention.

“Biiillllllllll!” she whined, “where are you going? I want to go to the beach!”

Crap. As far as I could see, Bill was totally whipped and doted on that girl, which meant if I wanted to leave, I was walking or calling a taxi. So imagine my surprise when Bill put the car in park and hopped out, taking April by the arm and literally dragging her over to the corner of the garage. There, out of earshot of both Angelica and of me, and appeared to be reading her the riot act.

April looked shocked at first, then apologetic. She kissed him on the cheek and clung to him for a minute before letting him go again.

When Bill got back in the car, he didn’t say a word. He just belted himself in, checked traffic and backed the car out, driving away.

We went several blocks in silence before I piped up.

“Nice weather, huh?”

“Good beach weather.” Bill said, then started laughing. “I may marry that girl some day, but that won’t happen until I find out how she handles getting paddled.”

“Say what?” I asked, incredulous. Mind-mannered Bill, turning April the debutante over his knee?

“Her parents spoiled her rotten. I told her when she asked me out that I wouldn’t put up with whining, and she agreed.”

“Holy shit, dude! You got this whole other secret life I don’t even know about! Bill, the shrew tamer!”

“Fuck you, Leo!” he said with a smile.

“No, I’m serious. I was impressed. You should have done that to Angelica. She is smoking hot but christ, she has a chip on her shoulder bigger than...” Bill cut me off before I could finish, interjecting “ ... your dick?”

“Dick jokes, really? Remind me to tell April about Missy Green.”

“Oh man, fuck! Don’t even go there! No more dick jokes if you never, ever mention her name to a living soul, deal?”

In third grade, Bill had heard, somewhere or other, of a way to check out girl’s panties. At recess had pulled out a round mirror about the size of a baseball and roll of tape. He taped the mirror to the top of his foot, and not five minutes later, I saw him hopping around after Missy Green, one foot in the air, trying to get it under her dress so he could see her panties.

Missy, once she saw what he was doing, ran to the teacher and Bill got to go to the principal’s office. Missy, on the other hand, watched him get hauled off with a smug look on her face, then turned and announced that he was a stupid boy because she wasn’t wearing any underwear. She lifted her dress and turned in a complete circle so everyone could see she was telling the truth. She was hauled off to the office too, but all of the boys except Bill got to see their first live pussy that day.

“She had a nice...”

“LEO!”

“smile.” I finished, making him groan.

We hadn’t gone more than two or three miles when Bill’s phone went off. Like me, he was not a fan of idiots who talk on the phone while driving, so he tossed it to me.

“Colby Crematorium, you kill ‘em, we grill ‘em. What size body?” I answered, not bothering to check the caller ID first. Bill was laughing though, he had done the same to me last week. Only he had said, “Mort’s Mortuary, you stab ‘em, we slab ‘em.”

What? We’re teen age boys. By the way, is your refrigerator running?

“Leo? Hold on.” It was April. Maybe Bill should have turned her over his knee.

“Leo, Angelica. Look, please come back. I hate that I ruined what should have been a fun day, and upset my cousin who was trying to do a nice thing, something I asked her to do. Please?”

“Angelica, I am sure that on a regular day, you are as nice on the inside as you are to look at on the outside, but today, I can’t deal with you. If I want someone to hate me for no reason, there are a whole squad of cheerleaders just looking for a chance. I’ll ask Bill to come back after he drops me off and you three can go to the beach. I hope the rest of your trip goes better.” I disconnected, throwing the phone on the seat next to Bill.

“Nope.” he said, shaking his head. “If I thought that April would leave her behind, I would go back, but sure as shit, I would end up toting them around while they bitch at each other all day.”

Bill and I ended up playing Gran Turismo 5 until dinner, and he stuck around for my Dad’s awesome bar-b-que ribs. His phone rang a dozen times, but he would just glance at the number and reject the call.

The next day, rather than sit around, I packed up a towel and a cooler and headed to the beach anyway. I decided I would rather sit around staring at cute girls than sit around watching reruns on television.

It turned out to be the best decision I made all summer.

The day was fantastic. High 80’s, a breeze off the ocean, an entire girl’s school worth of string bikinis, butt floss and bouncing ta-tas. Or so it seemed. There were a lot of unaccompanied young ladies on the beach. Sunning, swimming, walking around in small packs.

There were groups of guys too, tossing a Frisbee or football, making unnecessary, but spectacular, diving saves whenever the girls walked by. There was even a small Muscle Beach section where guys were pumping iron, doing pullups, showing off.

I am pretty fair skinned and burn easily, so I had taken off my shirt and used almost an entire spray can of sun screen to makes sure I got everywhere, leaving the empty can in my trunk.

When I walked by the Muscle Beach area, two guys were actually flexing, posing. I know I sound like a dick, but I was bigger and better defined that anyone there and I snickered as I walked by and went to the beach.

Yeah, bite me.

I had my beach chair my towel, my cooler full of cold water and my mirrored sunglasses ... I was there to perve.

I probably sat there for two hours, just watching the scenery and enjoying just chilling, you know? The temps slowly climbed into the mid 90’s and I had just about had enough when I heard a SMACK! sound, the undeniable, unmistakable impact of a hand on a face.

Looking left, I saw a Brunette with a hairstyle not much longer than Svetlanas, but a shape that was much softer and rounder (in a good way) was standing with her hand raised, threatening to slap the guy in front of her again. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but the tone was anger on both sides.

When the guy reached out and ripped her bikini top off, I was on my feet and running their way. The girl screamed and, when she tried to get the bikini back he shoved her, knocking her to the sand. He was standing over her, taunting her with the bikini when I walked up and grabbed his hand, squeezing with all my strength.

When his girlish screams hit the supersonic end of the register, I released his hand but kept a grip on the bikini top.

The girl didn’t look hurt, just embarrassed and scared, so I moved between them, my back to her, and held out the top behind me while keeping an eye on him.

Probably a good idea because the fucker threw a handful of sand in my face and charged, head down, intent on tackling me.

Did I mention my sunglasses earlier? I am pretty sure I did.

So when I reached out and smacked him on the side of the head with my open hand, he ended up plowing into the sand pretty hard. Walking over to him, I grabbed his arm and helped him up, then gripped his upper arms in both of my hands and lifted.

He was five seven or five eight, a hundred and fifty pounds of surfer bro, and I curl more than that.

When he was eye to eye with me. I just smiled at him.

“Put me down, you fucking asshole! I’ll kick your ass!” he was yelling, trying to kick me in the gut. So I obliged. I took three running steps and launched him into the water. Yeah, someone must have moved that pier piling, I swear it wasn’t there a moment ago. I felt pretty foolish, but I waded out to get him before he drowned. He wasn’t out, but he was going to be seriously sore tomorrow. I left him there, on his back, and walked back to the girl looking sheepish.

“I really didn’t see that piling.” I said with a shrug.

She had managed to tie the broken string and get her top on, and she accepted my offer of a hand up, then hooked her arm in mine.

“Not exactly like on the back of the comic books, but I am not going to complain.” she said with a smile. “Walk me up to the boardwalk?”

“It would be my pleasure. Would you mind a slight detour so I can grab my things? I was about to leave when I saw tiny push you. In fact, I was going to toss my chair in the car and get some lunch on the boardwalk. Can I buy you a hotdog or something?”

“I think I would like that. I’m Amelia, Amelia Baker.”

“Leo Hadrian”

“Well, Leo, let’s get your stuff!”

Amelia was from Fremont, a school across town, and would starting her freshman year at State in the fall. She said she wanted to study art and that she had been sculpting since she got her first play-doh set as a little girl.

We got hot dogs from a cart vendor, sodas from another, and we took a seat on the pier.

“So you are an artist! I have to tell you, that I am hopeless. I have a hard time drawing a straight line even with a ruler, so people that can create like that have always astounded me.”

“I am convinced that it is something you are born with. Artistic people see the world differently. My little brother is twelve, and he can draw amazingly realistic pictures that completely fool the eye into thinking they are three dimensional. He is amazing. Me, I see things in three dimensions. I mean, everyone does, but I can visualize something and see it from every side, every tiny detail.”

“What about you, Leo? You went to Central, you said? What do you want to be when you grow up?”

“I think I want to be a writer. Just this year I discovered how much I love to write. I sat down, just thinking about writing down a journal type thing, you know? I wanted to get something straight in my mind, so I wrote it down. When I began, the words just ... flow. Before I knew it, six hours had passed, and I had written forty thousand words. I read back over it and, this sounds egotistical, but it was good! Since then, I have been reading about writing, like that Stephen King book, and trying different styles. I have written a couple hundred thousand words this month, just playing.”

“That is art too, you know. Ask anyone if Shakespeare was an artist!”

“Maybe. I think of it more like a craft. Anyone can follow a patter, saw a board and hammer a nail, but not everyone can create a jewelry box from scratch that becomes an heirloom.”

“Hmmm ... sounds like art to me!” Amelia said, shrugging.

“Wait, Hadrian ... why do I know that name?” she asked, squinting at me.

Fuck, fuckfuckfuck.

“Hadrian’s Wall? A structure in ancient Britannia meant to protect the Roman side form the barbarian side of the country. History class.” I said, trying to throw her off track.

“Nope. How about, high school kid gets jumped, put in hospital. Gets out, gets attacked again, trashes four guys. Oh, and rumors have it that he is hung like a horse.” Amelia said, looking at me speculatively.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Amelia. I hope the rest of your day goes better.” I said with a smile, standing up and walking away.

“Hey Leo, wait up!” she called after me, grabbing me by the elbow.

“Look, whatever I said that upset you, I am sorry, okay? Don’t walk away, I was having a great time talking to you.” she said, holding my arm and staring up at me. She looked really sincere, and I gave her a sad smile.

“Amelia, you are a gorgeous woman, intelligent and a lot of fun to be around, but a lot of bad came from that situation, a lot is still coming. People have the wrong idea and no matter what I say, they don’t believe me. I found its mostly better to just walk away.”

“But ... it was epic! It was Walking Tall, it was Stalone in First Blood. It was a classic story about a good man being beat down but getting back to his feet. “ she said, hanging on my arm. “Okay, I get you, you don’t want to talk about it, so I won’t mention it anymore, but don’t go. Please?”

She was adorable. Those blue eyes and the dark hair, the smile.

I just shook my head and smiled back, taking her head and letting her lead me back where seagulls were feasting on the remains of our hotdogs.

“There are left over, bar-b-que ribs back at the house. My dad makes ribs that are out of this world, but he cooks like he was back in the army, way too much. Interested?”

“I could go for some ribs.” she said with a smile.

“You want to follow me in your car?”

“I came with some friends, but they hooked up with the buddies of short, stupid and handsy down there under the pier. He assumed that because they had been drinking and playing suck face, that I was free game.” she shrugged, grinning at me. “So ... wanna give me a lift, sailor?”

Mom was out, and Dad was by the pool, asleep with a beer resting on his stomach, so I left him alone.

We sat in the kitchen and I put a pan, lined with tin foil, into the oven to reheat the ribs. Amelia broke out her phone and was showing me some of the work she had done, and from what I could see, she had serious talent.

She seemed to enjoy teasing me a bit and gave me a cheeky grin when I flipped to a sculpture of a reclining nude, in fantastic detail. “That’s my mom.”

My eyes must have bugged out because she snorted, covering her mouth.

When I glared at her, she just laughed louder and took the phone back, flipping around until, with an “AHA!” she shoved it back under my nose.

Damn. Her mother was a MILF.

“Okay, that answers that. Next question is, do you want a June wedding or is the fall okay?”

“Wait, what?” she asked in surprise.

“Well, they say if you want to know what that beauty you with will look like in twenty years, take a look at her mother. If you are going to look that good, I need to marry you quickly before someone else snatches you away!” I said seriously, taking her hand and pretending like I was going to get on one knee.”

“Leo! Don’t you dare!” she said, her eyes wide and a flustered look on her face.

“What? My shoelace...” I said, ducking her half-hearted attempt to smack me.

The stove timer dinged and I used a dish towel to pull the pan out of the oven, then grabbed sodas and coleslaw from the fridge.

We ate in silence mostly, except for expressions of pleasure and lots of rolling eyes from Amelia.

Dad came in about then, doing a double take, then took a seat across from us and pulled a rib from the stack. He sat there gnawing on it as Amelia did a very obvious once-over on Dad, then turned to look at me speculatively.

I swear, I had no idea that bar-b-que sauce burned so much when it comes out your nose.

By the time I had stopped coughing, and Amelia had stopped laughing, Dad was looking at both of us as if we were nuts.

I started to tell him, but he just held up his hands, grabbed another rib, and went back outside muttering something about “I just don’t want to know.”

Which of course set Amelia off again.

After we ate, I gave Amelia a ride home. It was about thirty minutes, with traffic, since she lived on the other side of town, but we chatted easily and I just enjoyed the drive.

She lived in a neighborhood that could have been right next door to mine, it was so similar. I pulled to a stop in front of her house and she asked for my phone. She called her phone from mine, and saved her number as a contact for me.

“Just didn’t want to forget and then not be able to get a hold of you when I need a decision on wedding invites.” she smiled cheekily.

“Don’t forget, the ‘Clothing Optional’ needs to be in a large, bold font. I don’t want another incident like the one with Aunt Mable chasing the pastor with a potato peeler.” I said earnestly, earning another slap on the arm.

“Leo, I had the best day today, and I hope we can do this again.” she said, laying a soft hand on my arm.

“I would really like that. What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Ha! I like a man who is decisive, but I am busy tomorrow. I have been experimenting with mixed media, and the ceramic I used will be ready for the oven in the morning. I’ll be tied up most of the day with that. Friday?” she asked, sounding hopeful.

“Friday. Call me tomorrow if you get a break and we can decide what, when and where.”

She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and slid out of the car. Just before she closed the door, she leaned back in and, with an earnest expression on her face said, “Leo, I want you to think seriously about something, okay? I would absolutely love to sculpt you. Just think it over.” She shut the door before I could even begin to think of a reply.

Friday night turned out to be a surprise and a lot of fun. When I talked to Amelia on the phone Thursday, she said she had some ideas, and that I should just pick her up at six and dress casual.

I was there, wearing jeans and a polo, and she directed me to a place a couple of miles away, refusing to name our destination.

Now, there are some things that seem deceptively easy, but require practice, lots of practice, to master. No matter what you have seen, no one walks in the first time and just nails it.

Yeah, you guessed it. Putt-Putt golf.

Never was there a game designed to make a grown man look more idiotic than at Putt-Putt Golf.

On the first go around, on a nine hall course with a par of 27, I shot a 68.

Shut it!

All joking aside, it was a lot of fun. Not because of my horrible score, though I got a lot of ribbing about that, but because Amelia, who is some kind of Putt-Putt savant, decided I needed help and would sidle up behind me, pressing her breasts into my back and reach around to help my hold my putter. Yeah. My score went downhill faster than my cock went up hill.

She either had very poor spacial reckoning skills (not likely, with a score of 23) or she was deliberately grabbing the wrong shaft.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to line up a shot, across three hills, through a pipe, through a dinosaurs mouth and into the hole when a sexy brunette is describing how she needs to practice her grip?

By the ninth hole I was ready to take her out back and show her how to hit a hole in one.

Wait, I got one more. No ... nope, all done.

We had ice cream afterwards, her treat for kicking my ass on the course, then went for a walk. There is a little park, not too far from her house, and we sat on the swings and swung back and forth, holding hands and giggling like grade schoolers. When she pulled me close and pressed her lips to mine, and her everything to mine, I was willing to risk a public indecency charge.

Instead, I walked her back to her house and she invited me in. “Want to see my etchings?” she leered, shaking her ass as I followed her through the house. I thought we were heading to her bedroom.

Okay, I hoped.

But the door that opened was one that was filled with more magic that the bedroom would have been, though of a decidedly different flavor. It was her workshop.

I was stunned. I spent more than an hour, walking from piece to piece, marveling at the amount of detail she would put in each one. The size and scale was perfect on each piece and they looked as though she had taken the subject, frozen it in time and shrunk it to sit on a pedestal and be admired.

There was a dog laying in front of a fireplace. An old dog, weary after a long day, and I could almost smell the wood smoke. I could see the flames flickering and feel the heat. I could smell the wet fur and hear his contented breathing as he slept. In a chair, a sleeping old man, his shirt buttoned wrong so it gapped open, and through the gap the texture of his t-shirt. You could see the years in his face, the joys and pains, the worries and triumphs. You wanted him to wake up and tell you a story.