You don't respond, or do anything at first, but then he growls and grinds his foot on your face, causing it to sting. "Okay, okay!" you yell up at him. You swallow every inch of your pride as he laughs.
"I knew you'd do it," he grinned. "Cuz you're just a little bitch!"
God you hate him. You shouldn't have tried to fight him. This was a terrible ide--
"Now, faggot!" Davis yells, kicking your gut and grinding his foot even harder.
Alright, alright, you can do it...there's no one here to see, after all...
As his sneaker grinds into your face, the heel is above your face. Hating this situation, Davis, and most importantly yourself, you stick your tongue out, and taste the rubbery sole of his tennis shoe.
"Don't just poke it, bitch," he cackles. "Lick it like a dog licking his own balls! I wanna see dedication!"
He lifts his foot slightly, and you taste rubber and dirt as you trace your tongue from his heel to his toes.
As you spit, Davis practically falls over with laughter, his foot finally moving away from you, allowing you to stand up again.
"Never again," you glare. "And you better not tell anyone about this."
"Oh, I can't promise either of those things," he smirks. "But hey, you fought me, so I'll lay off about the Home Ec class."
"Good--"
"Buuuuuut," he interrupts.
"But what?" you respond, exasperated.
"My pals won't stop. They'll keep bugging you about it. I'll tell them off,_ if _you come by my place later at 4. I've got something I wanna show you.
Well that's...odd.
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