Only the Three of Us Ch. 01

Note: This is the prequel to a lengthy, semi-fiction story that I plan to span across many different genres including BDSM, threesomes, and a few others. This part, however, will be non-sexual, although it will deal with drugs, family issues, and underage children (again, NONSEXUAL.). I plan to tell three different origin stories of three main characters, as detailed as I can, in the order I myself experienced them. However, due to me being the narrator, my story will probably be the most detailed, and for that, I apologize in advance. Names have been changed to protect all characters.

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Part 1: My Beginnings.

I grew up in a trailer in a small rural town in Alabama, the son of two surveyors. One was a blonde, rather large female, one who tried her hardest to raise me correctly, despite my father, a scrawny, dark-haired drunken redneck with two kids from a previous marriage, both roughly 10 years older than I. My father left days before my 7th birthday, and showed up for maybe thirty minutes. My mother and I moved into a small duplex one town over, where I lived from 7 to 15. During this time, my mother went to a nearby college while still trying to work in town at my grandfather's small motor repair shop. I helped when I could, but eventually my grandfather retired, allowing my mother to focus on her degree. She eventually graduated with a bachelor's in psychology. Unfortunately, all that time spent going to college left me alone fairly often, and one night after a phone fight with my father, I fled the house. Distraught, I wandered to the park, where at almost 9 at night, an old friend of mine (for the purposes of this story, we'll call him M)saw me as he and an older friend drove by. Seeing me in visual anguish, he offered me a small needle of black tar heroin.

Heroin was a great crutch for missing both parents, and I was able to hide my habit from my mother for quite a while, mainly due to my major fear of needles and subsequent switch to snorting it. I did, however, become strapped for cash, and M offered me a sweet deal. Stay at the same park we had met that night at for a while, and hand someone in particular an envelope with some money in exchange for a paper bag of marijuana. While sitting in a tube, reading schoolyard graffiti and waiting, three young girls, only a year younger than I, climbed up the play set and struck up a conversation with me, despite nervous giggles about me being a serial killer. One in particular drew my attention, and I later began talking to her on a fairly regular basis. Her name, I soon found, was Allie.

Part 2: Allie

Allie, a short, larger girl who grew into a (relative to me) short, curvy woman, was the main object of my attention. With her brown hair, glasses, fairly open mind, slightly kinky (She was a pre-vert, we'd later joke), and being rather cute, I had a crush on her for quite a while. With parents divorced and a drunken father, we had quite a bit of common ground, which I attempted to leverage into a relationship. She wound up dating a close friend, J. Still living by the ever-present 'bro code', I knew that attempting a relationship after that would cause a major rift, so I cut my losses and wound up missing her for years. We still flirted, although I was rather new to the subject, my only sexual education coming from porn and tales from my friends. Unfortunately for me, she went to live with her mother in California for a while, which at that age, may have well have been Mars. So, I went on, living for drugs.

Part 3: My Formative Years

That one drug trade led to more, and soon, I was a proud, bandanna carrying gang member at roughly 13. Many doubt this, but who would you expect to have a packet of cocaine under his scrotum, a 13 year old barely pubescent kid or a 17 year old with a record? I made money in this lucrative trade, carrying everything from harmless marijuana to prescription pills to GHB and PCP, often tasting the goods before the sale. Only one proved to be truly addictive, though, and I soon found most of the money I made going into heroin instead of my pocket or 'accidentally' leaving small bills around the house in a rather futile attempt to stave off food stamps. Quite a while passed, including some things I'm not and never will be proud of, but one thing I was proud of was football. Being a roughly 200 pound kid, football had always been available, but it wasn't until a friend dared me to sign up that I started. So I did, and hated every minute of it. Trembling and sweating more than I could ever remember, I trudged back to the field house, ready to quit, until I heard some other kids placing bets on who would quit first. My name popped up rather frequently, and I resolved to stay in as long as possible. I struggled to keep up with the pack, while also dealing with withdrawal symptoms from my decision to quit heroin after M's death in a drug deal one wrong (his death signified the end of our drug ring), but eventually made it to the first game. We won it handily, and on the bus back, everyone was cheerful and brotherly. I knew that feeling of belonging in a group like this, but this time, it was a team, not a gang. I kept playing all the way to high school, where, on the first day of 9th grade, I met Quinn.

Part 4:Quinn

Quinn was a goddess in my eyes. Slightly shorter than me, causing her to have to look up at me with multicolored eyes behind glasses and streaked hair, which, when combined with her tight shirts and pants, cause my hormones to exude in amazing levels. Despite my sexual fantasies, I was sure a smart, extremely independent geekish girl would never be interested in a dumb jock I assumed she saw me as. What began as simple sexual interest bloomed into full on love when she first talked to me. At lunch, an ex of mine who had made her acquaintance beforehand sat across from me and introduced us. When informed that my ex had ended our relationship, Quinn was flabbergasted that she would give up 'such a cute one'. My face burned as I quickly looked down, wondering if this comment meant true interest or simply small talk.

I remained curious for the majority of the year, despite our increased activity starting in January. Quinn came into French 1 crying, and I resolved to find out why. I eventually worked up the courage to ask her, and she informed me that her father had died of a brain aneurysm almost immediately after she moved out from his house to her mother's. Having grown up without a father, I wasn't sure what to tell her, but I eventually convinced her to keep talking to me. I was sure that our conversation was platonic, due to the damned 'bro code' popping up, again in the form of J. One day at my locker, directly beside J's, I realized Quinn was in a relationship with J. I was devastated, but unable to formulate a plan around the 'bro code', because J started referring to Quinn as 'his bitch'. Another friend had to grab my arms to keep me from punching him right in his fucking face, a struggle he almost failed in. Quinn and J broke up soon afterward, unbeknownst to me. I had already decided to confront her about his verbal abuse and ask her to leave him, my first move in a tentative chess game of love, so-called 'bro code' be damned. Anyone who treated a specimen like her (and Allie earlier, as I soon found out) so cruelly was no bro of mine.

She had broken up with him, then gotten my number through a mutual friend. Texting me after school, I learned of the breakup and that she had only really dated him to get closer to me. She expressed explicit interest in me, which even I couldn't mistake for common courtesy. However, I was in a complicated long distance relationship with another girl, and couldn't accept her request of a serious relationship at the moment. Quinn, obviously hurt, nevertheless extended the offer of being friends with benefits, which completed my sexual fantasies of her. Three days later, I broke up with the other girl, and told Quinn I had dreamed of our relationship for a while, upon which I learned that she had for a while as well. April 18th became our dating anniversary, which evolved into my proposal years later, and our marriage a year after that. J felt I had betrayed him, threatening both Quinn and I (and at one point his own life), but I honestly couldn't muster up the hate to give a damn. Quinn was mine, and she was and continues to be amazing.

Part 5: Rendezvous

Around the time Quinn and I started dating, I caught a glimpse of Allie in the hallway. Old memories came rushing back, and Quinn caught me off guard. Quinn immediately disliked her, and continued until a later football game. My girlfriend met up with some of her friends, who happened to be friends with Allie. Quinn and Allie started talking, and soon became the best of friends, even having a few bisexual flings when possible. Quinn was already open with me about her bisexuality, and as a teenage hormonal garden hose, I was obviously okay with it, as long as I was the only man she was with and I heard detailed descriptions of any sexual contact with any girls she had. So my current girlfriend and future wife was friends with an old interest of mine, and I eventually even participated in their sexual romps. A few knee surgeries and years later, Quinn and I were married, with Allie as her maid of honor and our often seen friend with benefits. Thus, our true story begins, on a warm April 18, with Quinn and I both 23 years old, living in a small apartment while I studied nuclear physics and she studied culinary arts. It was our one year anniversary...

TO BE CONTINUED.

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P.S. This story was more of a prequel than actually part of the story, and the next chapter will also be rather slow. However, I believe that all parts are necessary for a proper story, and I promise to include details of our sexual behavior next chapter.