Chapter 4 Hutch
Hutch
Filtered light slowly rouses me from sleep. When I crack an eye open, an unfamiliar ceiling greets me.
Where the fuck am I exactly?
I expected the wood-grain paneled ceiling of my VW, but instead, I’m met with smooth white metal, dozens of silver rivets lined in neat rows. And it’s warm. Too warm. Soft breathing and the weight of an arm around my torso tug at my gaze and memory. But it’s…elusive.
A groggy glance around registers windows—rows of them.
Fog hangs like a mist beyond them, obscuring the view outside.
I let my eyes roam, and the blonde draped across my naked torso stirs.
A few colorful beads weave through her full head of dreadlocks.
A gold septum piercing catches the light.
Her lashes flutter as I look away to take in the rest of the interior of the apparent school bus turned caravan camper.
A sea of colorful tapestries, blankets, and bedding covers the floor, some occupied, some not.
No one else appears to be awake. A hint of weed clings to the air underneath the unmistakable scent of incense.
Patchouli. Something musky. Sandalwood, maybe.
Something is there, just out of reach. A dude with spiked blond hair and stacked hemp necklaces.
Puka shells. A bong, shot glasses, and…a monkey?
What the fuck happened last night?
A sleepy sigh to my right pulls my focus, and the brunette on the other side of me stirs, tossing a long leg over mine. I squint, trying to bring back memories of last night but it’s foggier than the weather outside. I think I fucked them both.
Who am I kidding? I absolutely fucked them both.
Empty condom wrappers lay discarded next to the pallet I’m currently pinned to, real classy-like.
At least I had the wherewithal to wrap my shit up. Not that I’m in the habit of fucking without protection. Made that mistake once.
Yeah, it’s too fucking early to think about that clusterfuck.
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I try to figure out how to get out from under these two chicks without waking them. Because while I’m sure I had a great time, I don’t do morning-after shit. In fact, I rarely stick around long enough for there to be morning-after anything.
Do I have a headache? I lift my head and a searing pain slices through my left eye.
Yep. Definitely hungover. Fucking tequila. That and all the weed. I’m not a big smoker, but it’s damn hard to stay sober when you’re buried balls deep in a hot surfer—scratch that, two hot surfers—inside a forty-foot hotbox on wheels.
Coffee is a need, not a want.
“Mmm…morning,” the blonde mumbles, stretching out her neck to gaze at me with a sleepy smile. Pressing her cheek back to my chest, she lets out a sigh before she also throws her leg over mine, bumping the knee of the brunette, who grunts in her sleep.
She walks her fingers down my abdomen, and I stop her by grabbing her hand short of cupping my cock. Her eyes flutter to mine questioningly, but it doesn’t last long before she pulls her hand free to stretch.
I crane my neck, looking around for my phone to check the time, but I don’t see it.
“Last night was…” the blonde starts, dreamily.
“So fucking hot,” the brunette mumbles around a smile.
Speaking of hot, it’s fucking stifling in here. I shift to sit up, and the blonde protests with a whine.
“Do you have to go?” She leans on her elbows, watching me with her chin propped in her palm. I climb out from under them both on the makeshift bed and stand. The brunette runs her eyes over me with a sleepy grin. I swipe up my shorts, stepping into them and pulling them up.
“We could get breakfast. A bunch of us are going hiking later,” she says.
Yeah, that’s a negative. I don’t eat with women I fuck.
I gaze around for my shirt and turn back to the blonde. Jennifer? Jessica? No, that’s not it. Something else… Whatever, it doesn’t matter—something vibrates against my thigh. My phone is in my pocket, thank God. Pulling it out, I see several missed calls and texts from my brother, Hank.
I spot my shirt, buried halfway under the blankets. I grab it and turn it right side out.
“This was great…” I pause, emphasis on the ‘great’ as I stall for the blonde’s name. Flicking a glance her way just in time to watch her face transform into a soft pout—it’s not as attractive as she undoubtedly thinks it is—I try and puzzle it out.
Also, I’m starving. When was the last time I ate? Noon, yesterday?
“Jennica,” she supplies, and I mentally congratulate myself on being really fucking close. My stomach growls.
I throw my T-shirt over my head and shove my feet into my slides, digging around in my pockets for my keys and wallet.
When I look back at her, her bottom lip pushes out again, and she lets the blanket drop to her waist as she sits up, perky tits on display. The brunette reaches over and runs her fingers over Jennica’s nipple, a giggle escaping her as she looks up at me through her lashes.
But I’ve already fucked them both in a bus full of people—bits and pieces are slowly coming back to me—and although I had a decent time, the whole situation is making my skin itchy.
I’ve been with two chicks before, but there are God only knows how many people in this bus and that is most definitely not my style. Neither is fucking the same chick twice.
It’s the same old song and dance. Get my dick wet, get out. I can’t remember shit from last night. That’s a little concerning, considering it’s the same thing that happened last weekend.
Well, not exactly, it was only one chick, Jamie, I think? And we were on her old man’s boat, not a bus.
But as I stare at both women now, the shine long gone so to speak, my dick doesn’t so much as twitch as I watch brown-haired whatsername fondle Jennica’s tits. I scrub a hand down my face.
My siblings call me a whore, and I guess I am.
If not wanting to sleep with the same chick for the rest of my life makes me a whore, so be it.
My sister Norah says I like the chase, but jokes on her because I’ve never chased a woman in my life.
I’ve never needed to. Never wanted to either.
Well, not in the last twelve years, anyway.
My phone vibrates with another text message.
Jesus, this fucker is persistent.
“You sure I can’t ride your dick again before you leave?” Her gaze turns flirty, but instead of turning me on, it makes my gut tighten. “Or Marissa can eat me out while you fuck her again.”
Ah, Marissa. I was thinking Miranda.
My phone buzzes in my pocket again.
Jennica crawls to the edge of her pallet bed and sits on her knees. Running a hand up my thigh, she smiles lazily at me and grips my cock through the thin material of my shorts. “Or I can suck you off this time. People say I’m the best at it.”
Doubtful.
I give her a strained smile, backing up a step, and she blushes, dropping her hand to her bare thigh. “Tempting,” I say, “but I’ve gotta go.”
Careful where I put my feet, I turn to leave.
Someone’s snoring softly in the corner, a bare foot sticking out from under a blanket.
The air’s thick with sleep and leftover takeout.
Two girls near the back aren’t asleep, though—they’re watching me.
One shifts just enough to whisper to the other, and both flash me a knowing look.
I don’t know how many bodies are crammed in here, but right now, it’s one too fucking many.
“Maybe we’ll see you around,” Jennica says. When I turn back, she pushes up to stand, all the bronzed skin on her tight little surfer body appearing even more tanned than last night.
Jennica raises on her toes to kiss me, but I put my hands on her shoulders and set her back a step to stop her.
“Oops,” she giggles, “forgot about your no kissing rule.”
My phone buzzes again, and I fish my keys out of my pocket, giving them both a tight-lipped smile. Neither seems to notice it’s fake as hell.
“See you around,” I say before turning and picking my way through the sea of blankets and sleeping bodies.
I descend the stairs and pull in a lungful of misty California morning air when I'm finally outside. It’s cooler out here and I immediately feel lighter. I’ve never been one to turn down kinky shit, but having an audience of who knows how many while I railed two women is a new one for me.
I briefly consider if this is getting old. I’ve never been a feelings guy, and the sex is usually okay. When I’m with these chicks, coming is my only goal. For them, too, obviously. I’m not a complete asshole. But lately, and I’d never admit this to anyone, even that’s losing some of its luster.
As I head in the direction of my van, my phone vibrates again.
“Jesus Christ, where’s the fire?” I mumble, running a hand through my long hair and pulling out my phone. Clicking into the messaging app, I pull up the messages from my brother. There are a couple from last night and three from early this morning.
Hank: Hey asshole
Hank: I’m gonna need some proof of life dickhead
Hank: Are you dead?? No one has heard from you in a week
Hank: Did you fuck the wrong man’s wife again? Laying in a ditch somewhere?
I roll my eyes. As a general rule, I don’t fuck around with married women. Too messy. I love pussy, but I like it to be…unattached.
But this fucker is never going to let me live that one down. In my defense, that was a year ago and I didn’t know she was married until her husband busted in. I got out of there so fast you’d have thought my ass was on fire. Left my favorite shirt behind, too.
Hank: Put your dick away and text me
I tap out a reply before he calls our mother.
Hutch: Fuck’s sake brother give a guy a chance to wake up
Hank : First of all its ten a.m. you lazy bastard
Hutch: Yeah where you are. Just because you get up at the ass crack of dawn doesn’t mean the rest of us do
Hank: Did you fuck my wife’s best friend in my new house
Ah, so that’s what’s got this asshole’s cargo pants in a twist. With a chuckle, I unlock my VW and pull open the door, memories of the chick with fiery red hair sliding my cock between her plush pink lips pushing into my mind.
Climbing inside, I find a half-empty water bottle and uncap it, swishing the water in my mouth before spitting it out on the asphalt. I tap out a quick ‘no’ before chucking my phone on the passenger seat. Right as I shut the door behind me, it vibrates again.
Hank: You sure about that
I blow out a breath, running a hand down my face. It’s too early for a lecture from my oldest brother.
Hutch: We weren’t in the house we were on the deck
Hank: That’s the same thing asshole
Hutch: No, it’s not and I didn’t fuck her. She blew me and I returned the favor, Dad.
Hank: Hutch fuck. You are such a dick
I huff out a laugh. He’s a touchy bitch, but that makes him more fun to fuck with.
Hutch: What? It’s a free country you know
Hank: I don’t want your cum all over my house. My wife and daughters live there YOU KNOW
This guy with the shouty capitals. What a tool. I smirk and tap out my reply.
Hutch: Relax. I didn’t get my cum anywhere in your house. Girl didn't waste a drop. It was actually pretty impressive
Hank: Fucking hell
Three dots pop up, and I realize we’re in the group chat when a text from my other brother, Hudson, comes through.
Hudson: What the duck, bro? I’ll kill you.
Hudson: Ducking autocorrect.
Hudson: Son of a ditch
I groan and reply before they both blow a fucking gasket.
Hutch: He’s talking about California, numb nuts
Hudson’s wife, Finnley, is cute as hell, but she’s been like an annoying kid sister as long as I can remember.
Hudson: Oh well carry on then *thumbs up emoji*
Hutch: Thanks brother. Will do
I start the van, but as I’m about to put it into reverse, another text comes through.
Hank: No more fucking on my property
Hudson: Your wife gonna be ok with that
Hank: Eat a dick Hudson
Hudson: You’re the one who texted in the group chat fucker
How the hell did he find out about me and Ginger hooking up, anyway? That was six months ago.
Dropping the van into reverse and keeping my foot on the brake, I shake my head and reply.
Hutch: How did you find out
Hank: My wife dumbass
Hutch: All traces of me are long gone by now and I'm sure there’s more of your cum all over that house than anyone’s comfortable with
Hank: Quit talking about cum
Hutch: You fucking started it
Hank: I mean it Hutch. Keep your dick in your pants
Hudson: Like that’s happening
Hutch: Eat me Snowflake
Hudson: You first Fabio
Hank: You two are idiots
My stomach growls again as I chuck my phone on the passenger seat.
I reverse out of the parking space, then make a right out of the parking lot.
There’s a diner down the road that makes killer pancakes, but I need a shower first. Spending the night in a van full of pot-smoking hippies who’ve been on the road for God only knows how long is an experience in and of itself, and after all day in the sun yesterday, I feel grimy as fuck.
I head back toward the beach I surfed yesterday, knowing there’s a public shower there. Afterward, I’ll grab something to eat and finish some work before heading to my next stop.