The Adventures of Dennis: The Final Morning part 1

Morning. Yellow light from a lamp beside a bed. When I opened my eyes, this is what I saw. I heard the traffic outside on Michigan Avenue.  I heard the fan humming overhead.
She was lying on my right, her back to me. She wore a white t-shirt. I prefer waking up to the women I fucked the previous night and seeing bare skin, but some women prefer shirts. I get it. I was shirtless.
I turned around and looked at my watch, which lay on my jeans. It said 8:30. I realized Janine probably had to go to work, but I wanted to stay a little longer. I didn’t have anything to do in Chicago.
Almost as soon as I turned around, Janine turned around. She just stared at me. She was thinking about what to say and how to say it.

I came to Chicago to get away from my Dad. He wouldn’t allow Renee to come visit in June. Not even for a few days. He had just been released from prison and was going to AA meetings again. He looked thin and closer to death, but mentally he was much more cognizant. Which is to say, he was even more of an asshole. The argument about Renee escalated over breakfast. That is, I was eating breakfast and Dad was pretending to watch the game. It ended with a fight. Yes, an actual fight. 
“You’ve got to ease up on the ladies, Den,” he said. He took a sip of seltzer water and twitched. He’d developed a twitch. “I know you’re after them too often. I’ve been away, but I’ve noticed.”
I stopped eating and stared at him. I was sitting at the same table on which I’d seen him fucking his mistress years ago, when I was eight or nine. Dad had stopped, noticed me and said, “You want to know more, Den? Come closer! It’s all right!” His woman hadn’t liked that and she got out from under him and started yelling. I had to watch these two naked people screaming at each other for what felt like an eternity. It was more like my Dad getting yelled at, but he was approaching her, so I knew what he was thinking. I saw him grab her by the shoulders and yank her over to the table. That was when I ran back upstairs to my bedroom.
Ten or eleven years later, this is what I said to him:
“Hey Dad. Fuck. You. You want to lecture me about this? Are you serious? You can’t be serious.”
Dad looked at me with a frailer version of the expression he’d worn for years every time he was pissed off.
“Why don’t you come over here, apologize to my face, and I’ll forget about what you said, Dennis. Otherwise, we’ve got a problem.”
“What do you mean, ‘we’ve got a problem?’” I shouted it. “You mean you’re going to hit me? How many times are you going to hit me, Dad? How hard?”
He stood up from the couch and walked towards me.
“Are you even gonna fucking hit me you big pussy?” I kept shouting. “Man up, guy. Man up.” 
I looked him right in the eye.  I wanted him to swing at me. He wanted to swing at me too. But he just stood there. 
So I stood up and socked him in the stomach. He doubled over.
“Yeah, that’s what it feels like.” I was standing now. “That’s what it feels like you fucking hyprocrite.” 
I swung at his head as I said hypocrite. Dad ducked my hand and pushed me over the table. Plates fell everywhere.
Dad’s face was very red. He screamed at me.
“Shut up. Please shut the fuck up. Don’t you recognize me, Dennis? Don’t you know that this is your father you are looking at?”
The next day, I woke up early and wrote him a note saying that I was getting on a bus and I wouldn’t be back for a while. I didn’t say where I was going.
One place I wasn’t going was Renee’s house. She lived all the way over in Indiana and I didn’t want to go that far. Also, she was on her period that week. I knew because she’d told me via text message as a way of saying we couldn’t fuck when she visited. I wasn’t even sure why she wanted to visit. I’d never officially called her my girlfriend, and during the last semester, all I did was cheat on her. I cheated on her with girls like Emily and Kate and that one chick at the house party who blew me, Samantha. Renee suspected all this. So why did she want to see me? Because I was the most amazing dick she’d ever had?
In any case, I wanted to get laid, so I decided to take my business elsewhere. That elsewhere was Chicago.

I have one friend in Chicago. Mitchell. I called him up and he said I could stay on his futon. Of course, if I was on my game at all, I wouldn’t have to stay on his futon for at least one night. Mitchell got that.
While riding the bus I got bored and when I get bored I get horny. I thought of the last pair of legs that had wrapped around me. Renee’s, actually. She’d sat on my face and her thighs had scraped up against my cheeks. Scraped because she never seemed to be able to shave her legs so they were totally smooth. Her legs had a great shape to them, but she was completely awkward in this way. She was completely awkward in a number of ways. She’d rode my face for like ten minutes, sucked my dick, snuggled for a few minutes, and then she was off. Her parents were calling her as she exited my dorm room. I had worried, while eating her out, that she would ask me to come meet her parents, which would have meant awkwardly shaking hands with two people whose daughter’s vagina I had just un-smeared from my face. But she didn’t. I got to lie there and feel her juices dry on my face and her saliva evaporate from my cock and think about how that was it. All the girls, the legs, the drinking, the weed smoking. That was it.
The next day, I was not wanting to go home and thinking about who of my various booty calls might still be on campus. Maybe Renee wasn’t it I thought as I wandered around campus alone. But I laid that idea to rest when I took a shower later on. It was because of my pubic hair. The hair above my cock was—how else to put it?—it had started coming off in one specific patch. This was a patch where I could see skin. It was scratched, red skin. I knew it wasn’t some kind of disease—I’d already seen to that. What had happened to it was Renee’s shorn pussy. At one point, a few weeks back, I’d told her that she should shave her pussy because it would make it much sexier. She’d gotten mad at me for saying it and walked out. But she came back like I knew she would, and the next time we fucked, sure enough, her pussy was shaved. Except not that well. A mound of spiky, prickly hair basically reared up between her legs as if to say, “Restricted area. Violators will be shot.” Well, I had ignored the sign and, since all the sex I have seems to end up pretty rough, her vagina had slammed up against my pubic hairs, repeatedly, and gradually beat the shit out of it. Of course, I kept fucking her even after noticing it (she pointed it out), but I hadn’t felt the true gravity of the situation yet. So as I examined it in the shower, I thought, nope. That really is it for the time being. So I went back to my room and watched all ten of my bookmarked porn videos.  Then I went back to my Dad’s house and, since I wasn’t going to get any action there, since I didn’t even like being there, I watched those ten videos again and again, and found ten more. I got back in to daily jerking off mode. It was in one sense relaxin;, in another sense, it was sad.
Most dudes my age only fantasized about the shit I could make girls do. Now I was fantasizing about it. When I couldn’t take it any longer, I went in to the bathroom on the bus, watched a two-minute clip on my phone, and did the whole palm and shaft show. Then we got to a rest stop.