'Sup, Bitches

Making way, Caleb pulled forward on the ice. "Chris! Gabriella!" The two lovebirds, however, had already dallied a few feet away with impressive momentum considering their preoccupations, latched onto the wall. A few other teens and young adults on the rink conveniently stood between them.

Fwoosh, went his shoes. He let out a whistle.

"Gotdamn, THAT ASSYoowhooagh shuh-hiit!"

A giggling couple passed by without regard, hands shimmying down each other's pants. Some tight ones were on that chick, too. Tight and curve-motherschlicking-accentuating. Caleb chortled and tore away. Not the point.

"Hey! Watch it!" pumped Caleb after wringing his head into focus, fist in the air.

His feet wavered not a second later as a trio of questionably (un)dressed girls skidded behind him, accosting his shoulder. He successfully cut his icy slide short, only for a pair of Asians to blow by from his right, which nearly threw him off for good. The teen, with a few expletives in tow, swung his upper body back and forth in his best imitation of a paddle, the welts of his shoes dangerously close to tipping. Luckily, he was able to balance himself before eating block and looked back up in time to narrow his eyes.

Chris was currently holding onto Gabriella's tits through her black puffer jacket + white shirt combo and diddling his digits happily over both her covered nipples while she let him. And as if that wasn't PG-13 enough, he was rhythmically humping her from behind like a churro burger was being born.

A coo that definitely wasn't Chris's simmered through the air. A smile was etched across the handyman's face, and a wry curl on butt babe's, as he began squeezing her tits hungrily, capped with eyes you could probably drill bedrock with.

"Enjoying yourself back there?" Gabriella smirked, behind that sassy glint of hers Caleb recognized well -- even as she was being roughened in the middle of a public skating rink while on the ice in front of friend and stranger alike with practically her entire lower half exposed to everyone who cared to look.

Hot. And speaking of hot, with a furled brow, ever the more heated Caleb grew.

Grinning, Chris fitted in another squeeze. "You know it Gab! Damn you got some fine handwarmers on you," he slid one hand down, drawing it over the curvature of her buttocks, "and this ass..." Smack! "...this ass is fucking perfection, baby."

Damn right! Caleb echoed in the inner chambers of his twitching grey matter, carefully setting one foot in front of the other.

Even now, as Gabriella hovered bottomless against Chris, Caleb found himself ready to blow a load at the unadulterated, pro bono view of the hispanic beauty and her lip-bitingly delectable trunk, sculpted by years on the dance floor and the kind of genes only her equally tappable MILF of a mom (hitting the 40s and aged like wine) could bless that body with.

And what a holy gift they'd been given.

He had been waiting to see the goods bare bottomed and scrumptious like this -- which he could now affirm were just as good as her carefully curated peeks on Instagram implied -- ever since first meeting her in the middle school cafeteria, many, many dorky days ago. And here the hot but unflappable Gabriella was, blades on the ice, allowing the world to see her with her tights and underwear shrugged to the wayside, legs and butt built for divinity now exposed as if she was partaking in some fun recreational exercise.

HELL, with the way she and everybody else was behaving, you woulda thought it was a daytime news feature. Like leapfrogging, a skating circle or something. Which, if you counted standing there half naked, the slope of her ass being cradled in her new boo's palm, in the open, slightly cool indoor air as such, would finally be some good waking hour TV!

All because he made everyone accept this insanity as completely normal.

Ha. Hahahaha! Better than this rink's premier pizza!

The result simultaneously made his friends into enthusiastic public sex performers in just a blink, not a question crossing their minds about it. His ears picked up no whispers or quietly mortified murmurs saying 'Isn't this super wrong?', or 'What is happening?' No -- today and henceforth, as witnessed in the clothing store and now here, everyone was cool with being just as perverted as he wanted them to be.

Instinctively, Caleb swished his head back to Zack and Angie, who were currently helping the other disrobe as the former groped Angie's pants-ridden, light skinned legs, dragging his palms up to her inner thighs then down to her shins and repeat. Meanwhile, the cute blonde only squirmed, though eventually, her mouth moved, probably to stammer out something to get the invested young man to hurry it up.

Caleb smirked. In the name of decadence. A sight that yesterday would have been laughable on paper now made laughable in plain, unbelievable, fantastical view.

He never even dared imagine the random strangers around him, let alone his friends, in something as weird, lopsided, yet dick solidifying as this twilight zone parody shit. Not before THIS. But boy, life could be stranger than fiction.

And some cases, just as cliche.

"Hey," Caleb planted his feet onto the ice with a crackle, and marched forward to settle the score. "Hey!"

After what felt like years of pitiful peripheral vision, Chris and Gabriella looked up, straight at the boy, and their eyes narrowed.

"Caleb?" Below, Chris kneaded Gabriella's ass with the enthusiasm of a dough roller, slowing only moderately at Caleb's vocal appearance. The new couple exchanged a quick glance.

"That's right," as the man himself grinned, giving in to a curt shake of the wrist, an array of ceiling lights bounced off the glass of his watch. "'Sup, BITCHE--"

Thump!

A hard hit came into contact with the back of his shoulder. What proceeded next didn't take a degree in astrophysics to deduce.

Caleb took the slow-motion frame of time to reflect a little; get some quick, much needed introspection in. He thought of Gabriella's exposed tits and ass. He thought of gravity. It was like his boyhood years, afternoons spent playing with dominoes. Watching them fall, and tip. He always thought it was funny for some reason. Individually they would fall in the direction they were facing, but together, you could construct a damn Mona Lisa. With dotted blocks, you could. Wasn't that something else?

He recalled the time he accidentally strung together an outline of a man's penis as he fell, wrist-first -- only to take a bump on the forehead anyway -- onto the solid ice, and an audible crack rang out from under him.