There were two qualities about my high school friend, Kmart Cowboy, that I genuinely were two qualities about my high school friend, Kmart Cowboy, that I genuinely appreciated. First and foremost, he had vehicle. At a time in my life when riding bicycles became increasingly uncool, having a friend with a truck was more important than wearing clean underwear. Secondly, Kmart Cowboy had game. Out of all my associates at the time, Kmart Cowboy had more girlfriends, sexual partners, and concubines than I could possibly keep track of. These two qualities provided enough incentive for me to spend a considerable amount of time with the wannabe wrangler, even though I viewed his cowboy boot-wearing ass as completely anathema to my modest character.
During one late spring afternoon while I was riding with Kmart Cowboy inside his dune buggy, speeding around the red-rocked hills of southern Utah, my hussy-hustling friend boasted to me about his recent sexual exploits. “You wouldn’t believe how much ass I’m getting these days,” Kmart Cowboy blatantly stated. “I have so many girls calling me, I can’t keep up with screwing all of them. I should give some over to you so you can keep their pussies warm for me.”
“Be my guest,” I replied. “I don’t get down with any sloppy seconds, though. And I don’t like fat bitches either. I know how you like women a little on the heifer side.”
“Dude, that’s not it at all,” Kmart Cowboy claimed, while navigating the buggy through a sharp turn in the dirt road upon which we traveled. “I just don’t have time to keep up with all these chicks. I can’t even call them back half the time, let alone make time to fuck them!”
I gripped the side bars of the buggy, while Kmart Cowboy downshifted the vehicle for a crawl up a steep hill. “You must got something really good to be turning down extra ass,” I stated over the noise of the rear-mounted motor. “What’s her name?”
Kmart Cowboy contorted his face into a shit-eating grin. “Camille,” he replied, bringing the buggy to the top of the hill.
“I don’t know any girl around our school by that name.”
“That’s because she don’t go here,” Kmart Cowboy said, steering the buggy down the opposite side of the incline. “She goes up north. She’s got a friend too… she’s pretty hot. Wanna meet her?”
Bouncing around inside the small seat of the dune buggy, I fell inward as Kmart Cowboy conducted a power slide into a patch of soft dirt, bringing the vehicle to a complete stop. “Sure,” I replied, brushing the rust-colored dust from off my clothes. “When we going?”

The following Friday, Kmart Cowboy and I skipped the last period of class together. We got inside his partially primer-coated truck and drove to a rival high school that was located in the northern part of the county, some twenty minutes away from our town. As the final bell rang, letting out school for the day, Kmart Cowboy and I were found standing in the hallway of our adversary’s school, waiting by a row of lockers. Within a few minutes, Camille was seen walking down the hallway, wearing no shoes and exhibiting a salient camel toe through her tight pants. She greeted Kmart Cowboy and the two embraced.
“Hi, I’m Camille,” my friend’s significant other announced to me, introducing herself.
I offered a crooked smile in return. “Hey, I’m Keaton.”
“So do you want to meet Jamie?” Camille asked in a hyperactive tone, grinning as if she was readying to give away a special present.
“Sure,” I replied.
Camille shouldered up next to me and pointed down the hallway. “Okay, she’s right over there,” she said, pointing down the row of lockers toward a petite girl with long, golden-brown hair and nice breasts.
“Get on it!” Kmart Cowboy prompted me. “We have to get going!”
I walked over to the identified girl and leaned against the side of the lockers near her. “Hey,” I greeted the feminine stranger with a manly tone. ”I’m Keaton—Kmart Cowboy’s friend.”
“I know,” the girl replied, while taking some items out of her locker. “I saw you walk in with him. I’m Jamie.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
Jamie closed the door to her locker and looked straight at me. “You’re not a cowboy are you?” she pointedly inquired.
“Me? No—no, I’m not a cowboy. Why?”
“You don’t wear flannel and one of those big, stupid hats like your friend is wearing over there do you?”
I glanced over my pinstriped pants, the black t-shirt, and my white dress shirt that I had hanging off my shoulders like a suit jacket. “No,” I repeated, moving my hands over my toned body. “This is all me right here. I don’t wear any garbage can lid belt buckles or Wranglers. I don’t have any of that stuff.”
“Or boots? You don’t wear boots either I hope. I hate boots.”
“I don’t own any boots,” I reported. “And I don’t have any Oakley sunglasses either. I can’t remember the last time that I’ve touched a horse. Neither can Kmart Cowboy over there but that’s beside the point. Matter of fact, and this might surprise you, I don’t have a big, jacked up, four-by-four truck either. I don’t even have a car. That’s why I hang out with dingle berry over there. He drives me around.”
Jamie smiled. I was unsure if she was entertained at my humor or the fact that I did not dress like every other desert-dwelling Utah homo that she had probably come across. “Good,” she said. “Look, I have to go home now. My stepfather’s picking me up in a few minutes. But you can come get me tonight if you want. He goes to work after five.”
“Uh, okay,” I stated.
“Camille knows how to find my house,” Jamie stated, walking away. “See you later!”
I walked back over to Kmart Cowboy and Camille, who were both standing in the middle of the hallway, busily making-out. “Well, that was quick!” Kmart Cowboy said, wiping his moistened lips off across his flannel sleeve and looking over to me.
“Jamie said that she has to go home now,” I reported. “She told me that we can go by to pick her up after awhile.”
“What are we waiting around here for then?” Kmart Cowboy stated. He turned and briskly walked out of the high school, rudely leaving Camille and myself behind.

As we waited for the time to pass to meet up with Jamie, Kmart Cowboy drove his Chevy pickup truck around the dusty roads of the small, rural town. Camille was sitting in the middle of the bench seat between us while we cruised. After an hour or so, Kmart Cowboy eventually parked his truck on a corner lot along the main drag so that he could watch other teenagers drive by, prowling the central street. We chatted as the time approached to travel over to Jamie’s house.
“You don’t plan on doing anything with Jamie, do you?” Camille unexpectedly asked me.
I looked at Kmart Cowboy’s girlfriend with a curious expression. “What do you mean?”
“I mean sex. Every guy she’s ever gone out with has tried to get in her pants. The last one really freaked her out. I think he tried to rape her or something. She got really scared over it and it’s taken me forever to talk her into dating again.”
I shook my head. “No, I’m not like that.”
Kmart Cowboy scoffed. “Yeah, right…” he murmured.
“I’m serious!” Camille stressed.
“Okay, don’t worry about it,” I said. “I won’t do anything. I wasn’t planning on it anyway.”
Camille demonstrated an expression of relief. “Well, good, because we don’t need anyone else getting pregnant around here.”
“Pregnant?”
“Didn’t I tell you, dude?” Kmart Cowboy asked, looking out the window at a carload of girls who were driving past us.
“Tell me what?”
Camille gleamed. “I’m pregnant,” she announced.
The world around me froze still for a moment while my mind struggled to accommodate the cognitive dissonance. I looked at the girl beside me, being not more than fifteen years-old. I then glanced at the impregnator sitting behind the wheel of the partially rusted pickup truck. He was staring out the side window in a nonchalant manner, a toothpick in his mouth, and a black, felt cowboy hat resting atop his head. Kmart Cowboy was unemployed, a hoodlum, and a promiscuous womanizer. I immediately felt sorry for the unborn child.
“You’re pregnant?” I asked, still in disbelief over what I was hearing.
“Yeah, ain’t that some shit?” Kmart Cowboy said, looking away from the other girls on the street.
I grappled with what words to say. After a few seconds, I sputtered out: “Wow.”
“Isn’t it great?” Camille asked with a bedazzled smile.
“Do your parents know about this?” I inquired.
Camille turned to look at the sperm donor beside her. “Well, not yet,” she said, her voice lowering. “But we were planning on telling them tonight.”
“Tonight? As in now?”
“Well, not right now. We have to go get Jamie first.”
I stared forward with my mouth hanging open.
“Don’t worry about it,” Kmart Cowboy said. “We won’t get in the way of whatever it is you two will be doing.”
“Just remember,” Camille said to me, “you told me that you weren’t going to try anything with Jamie.”
Kmart Cowboy laughed. “Right. We’re going to be coming downstairs and I’m going to hear some moaning noises coming from inside your bedroom. I’ll open up the door and see Keaton’s white moon pumping in and out of your friend, on your bed!”
“You wouldn’t do that, would you?” Camille asked me.
“No. I’m cool. No worries.”
“I hope you’re being honest,” Camille stated, “because Jamie is really a good girl. She’s still a virgin and she wants to wait to have sex until she’s married.”
After several more minutes of discussion, it came time for us to drive over to Jamie’s house. We picked her up without delay and spent the remainder of the evening walking around inside the local park, talking and getting to know each other. Toward nightfall, Kmart Cowboy drove all of us to Camille’s residence.
While waiting for both of her parents to return home for the pregnancy announcement, Camille and my rustler friend enjoyed some frolicking with each other in one of the upstairs bedrooms. During the meantime, I was left alone with Jamie in Camille’s basement. We sat on a squat couch together and watched a broken down television set. With the words of Camille running through my head, I dared not make any moves on Jamie or conduct any actions that she might misinterpret as a sexual advance. She was looking very appealing, though, so the temptation to get her naked was very strong.
After about an hour or so of sitting and watching television together, drowning in the awkward silence between us, Jamie looked to me and asked, “Ever had a monkey bite?”
“What’s a monkey bite?” I coyly responded.
“This!” Jamie reached out her hand and cusped it inside my inner thigh. While doing so, she dug her nails deep into my leg. The pain was marvelous. As I was unable to break her grip, I implemented a countermeasure by tossing Jamie completely off the couch. Once she hit the floor, I jumped on top of her and tried to pin her down with a haphazard wrestling move. Jamie was much faster than I and quickly wiggled herself free of my body. She then attacked me with rapid motion. Within seconds, we were both furiously wrestling on the floor, intertwined. The wrestling movements evolved into momentary embraces, which in turn, morphed into slight kisses. The kisses became longer in duration until both of our tongues were in motion and all aggressive movement had stopped. Then, my hands began to roam all over her petite body, searching for access into her tight clothing.
I soon found the small of Jamie’s bare back by pulling her shirt free from her pants. As I tried to lift her shirt from off her torso, Jamie hastily began disrobing my chest, causing our arms to become kinked together. We unraveled our bodies while simultaneously shedding each others’ clothing, intermittently kissing as we proceeded. During the intense moment of passion, Jamie managed to yank my pants down around my thighs and then slide them off further down my legs with her feet. As she did so, I hoisted up her pelvis and stripped the tight jeans from off her body. Jamie unsnapped her bra from behind as I plowed my face into her navel, following the female scent of lust further south. Once her panties were removed, I pressed my pulsating penis against her moist labia and applied pressure. Jamie’s allegedly virginal receptacle was quite small, like rest of her petite body, but was nonetheless receptive of the massively disproportionate shaft being thrust inside her.
An indiscernible amount of time passed with Jamie’s body wrapped around me like the double helix of a DNA molecule. We rolled around on the basement floor in various positions until my chubby erupted with an outflow of boy batter inside Jamie’s reproductive tract, causing her to moan loudly.
With my hair in disarray and my chest soaked with sweat, Jamie’s throngs of passion were interrupted by a loud pounding sound coming from outside. I raised my head. “What was that?” I asked, panting from physical exertion.
“I don’t know,” Jamie stated from somewhere beneath my prone body.
“—And he can stay out there!” a man’s booming voice was heard shouting from upstairs.
“He didn’t mean it like that!” Camille’s voice followed.
“To hell he didn’t!” the booming voice returned. “I’m not going to have some punk sit in my house and tell me he don’t know if he’s going to support my daughter—after he got her pregnant!”
I unwrapped Jamie’s legs from around my waist and withdrew my throbbing willy from her moist regions. I quickly reached for my clothes as the blood began to recirculate into other parts of my body. “Who’s that yelling?” I asked Jamie, motioning upstairs through the ceiling.
“Camille’s dad,” Jamie replied, finding her bra and shirt beside the couch.
“Damn, I didn’t hear them come home.”
Jamie giggled. “Neither did I. I guess we got a little distracted, huh?”
I pulled up my pants and tucked my warrior away. “Yeah, guess so,” I replied. “Now what do we do? We’re stuck down here.” Jamie attempted to quickly straighten her hair over the top of her shirt by running her fingers through the lengthy strands, trying to weed out the knots. “She don’t got a basement door by any chance, does she?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Jamie replied, adjusting her panties.
“Well… maybe I can scoot out a window.”
Jamie buttoned up the jeans around her curvaceous hips. “We can just go up the stairs,” she suggested. “What’s the big deal?”
“There’s a little bit of a contention going on upstairs,” I pointed out. “And I think it has something to do with Kmart Cowboy telling Camille’s parents that she’s pregnant. I don’t believe that her dad would be too appreciative of the fact that his pregnant daughter’s friend is down in their basement, at this particular time, getting frisky with Kmart Cowboy’s buddy. What do you think?”
“Oh, yeah….” Jamie laughed, nearing herself close to me. “It was fun, though. Maybe I can let you take advantage of me again sometime.”
Just then, Kmart Cowboy’s voice was heard yelling out from the road. “ALBERTSON! GET OUT HERE NOW! WE’RE LEAVING!”
“Aww shit,” I said, shaking my head.
“Do you really have to go?” Jamie asked, hugging on me to stay.
“It’s either that or I’m walking back home,” I said, removing her hands from around me. “Don’t worry. I got your number.”
Apprehensively, I walked up the stairs to the main floor of Camille’s house. The pregnant teen’s father was nowhere to be seen. Camille was spotted kneeling on the floor by the fireplace, her sobbing mother holding Camille’s torso in her lap. The sound of Kmart Cowboy’s revving motor echoed throughout the living room. I offered Jamie a wave goodbye and then bolted out of the house. Reaching the old Chevy on the curb, I jumped inside the cab of the truck. Kmart Cowboy immediately accelerated and sped away from the house.
“I take it that things didn’t go so well,” I said to my friend, as he angrily drove down a dirt road toward home. He did not respond to my comment. I watched him drive for a bit and then noticed that his right hand was bleeding. “What did you do to your hand, man?”
“I punched the truck,” Kmart Cowboy responded in a monotone.
“That must have been that loud banging sound I heard.” I paused for a moment while we continued to drive on in silence. “So what now?” I eventually asked.
Kmart Cowboy bit his lower lip and wiped his bloody knuckles across his pant leg. “What do you mean? There’s nothing now. I just dumped that bitch.”
“You two just broke up? But she’s pregnant. You can’t just dump some girl like that when she’s pregnant.”
“I just did,” Kmart Cowboy firmly stated.
During the remainder of the drive home I came to realize the broken integrity of my friend. He was clearly only looking out for his own self-interest and had no concern whatsoever for his girlfriend, her family, or his seed. Kmart Cowboy was only thinking about himself in the most selfish way possible. I thought about the hardships that Camille would likely face as a single mother and the disenfranchised lifestyle that her child would suffer from having an absent father. Then I began to wonder just how the fuck I was going to continue balling Jamie. If this asshole stops dating Camille, I thought to myself, then he’ll have no reason to transport me across the county so I can have sex with Jamie. Forget about the unborn child. What about my nookie?

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