George plopped onto his bed. He is so fucking happy. His move-in party was a success and he was finally able to lay down and rest his racing mind. A little feisty one with great legs is another augment to his elation as well.

Little miss Evelyn. Hell yeah, she was a feisty one and he loved every minute of their encounter. George loved getting a rise out of people and Evelyn made it extremely easy. She was so very responsive and that too had George grinning from ear to ear. He also liked that the girl with the great legs has a mean tongue. If he had a fetish it would be smart mouths. Contrary to popular belief, that is a turn on for guys, especially for George.

All in all, George enjoyed his night and definitely didn't want it to end. But people had to go, the apartment had to be cleaned, and George needs some sleep.

After a shower and quick check of texts from his friends and a few partygoers, George plugged his cellphone onto the charging dock on the bedside table, pressed play on his nightly playlist and weaved himself underneath the comforter.

The morning sunlight nearly blinded George as he tried his best to shield himself with the comforter. He was not the least bit a morning person, especially after last nights escapades.

"What the fuck man..." He groans beneath the covers.

He really should've closed the curtains last night. Now he totally regrets neglecting to do so.

Lazily, he removes the comforter from above his head and sits up against the headboard. A sudden gust of cool air hits his bare chest reminding him of how bare he really is beneath the navy sheets.

All he wore was boxer briefs and the tent in them was definitely not from his wild slumber. Morning wood is a bitch for George. He doesn't understand the biological concept of being fully erected, for no reason, first thing in the morning. It's an ill reminder that George hasn't been active in awhile.

George may seem like a playboy, but he is honestly a good guy with bad boy tendencies. Don't get him wrong, he will comment on a nice ass if he sees one, but he doesn't believe in sleeping around with said nice asses. His mother taught him better.

He is a mama's boy and it is true what is said about them. They usually have certain morals in regards to how a young lady should be treated and George was no different. He may have acted like an oxymoron last night with that Evelyn girl, but that was a special case.

After dancing together, George tried to turn up on his charm and get her number. Evelyn didn't bite at all. Instead, she surprised him and took his number. George knew that game. When she takes his number, she decides if they stay in contact. George didn't know how to feel about it, but he did give her his number so obviously, he is hopeful.

After that, the pair parted ways and George went on to another girl and so on. He was enjoying himself, he did enjoy himself and that's all that mattered.

The flashing of LED light reeled George back to the reality of his morning wood and a cellphone call. He groaned out again as he awkwardly reached for his cellphone while still trying not to press the woken anatomy.

He doesn't check the caller identification as he retrieves the cellphone successfully. He barely missed sliding his thumb across answer before someone was yelling through the speaker.

It was his best friend, Justin.

"What the fuck, Justin! Stop fucking yelling!" George hissed, rubbing his temple with his free hand.

"Sorry man, but I got some good news!" Justin blared over the speaker, his loud baritone not changing contrary to George's request.

"Justin, stop fucking yelling or I'm hanging up." George grits, swiveling his legs across the bed.

"Okay, okay. Anyways, dude... Spring semester, I think you need to join a fraternity." Justin proposed, his voice appropriately leveled this time.

George rolled his eyes. This is another one of the many things his father has thrust down his throat. Joining a fraternity. His father wants him to carry the torch of the Mills men name. His father wants him to join some Kappa Si shit. He doesn't even understand those Greek terminologies and finds it ridiculously stupid to sell his soul to dickheads who will mistreat him.

From what he has heard or seen, strolling ain't his thing either. He refuses to be exploited like a circus monkey, and for what? Eternal brothers? George will pass.

"I'm good." George finally answers.

He makes a great effort to stand up from his bed, ignoring Justin's explanations as he wobbles awkwardly towards the bathroom. He fucking hates morning wood.

"I'll call you back, Justin." George cuts his best friend off.

George hears Justin's heavy sigh before he tapped his finger on the telephone icon. He found no use in listening to his best friend ramble on any further. He just wanted to handle his business and keep it moving for the day.

Placing his cellphone on the bathroom counter, Justin walked further into his spacious bathroom and reached for the knob on the tub. He is happy to note that his parents didn't get the bathroom wrong either. God, he was spoiled.

George sighed as he felt the water. He could feel himself tightening at the warmth. He wonders if it has really been so long since his last sexual escapade? After his last relationship from this past summer with a beautiful Latina, he couldn't see himself in anymore.

Maria Romero was her name and emotional attachment was her game. George didn't mind. She made him feel comfortable and accepted. In a way, he was emotionally attached as well. So when things ended on a sour note - he had rightfully accused her of pursuing another guy - it took a toll on poor George.

He trusted that girl, they were going on a year that summer. In a way the break up made him steer clear of girls for awhile, but it didn't last long obviously. He was back to his usual charming self by the middle of fall semester. The last he heard about Maria was that she transferred university's and now has a new beau that she fell in love with in three weeks after George's and her break up.

George brushed off the memories of Maria Romero and stepped beneath the shower head. He had lied to himself when he claimed he isn't into diverse girls. He really is. Then again, he likes them all. There isn't much a difference between girls in general just complexion and personality.

George groaned as he tried to stop thinking for just a second so he can handle his current situation. When his thoughts seemingly evaporated into the air, George grabbed himself and pushed down. He hissed at the foreign feeling.

George didn't masturbate often - he was far too busy worrying himself to the brinks of insanity - that when he did, it was always more intense than it should be.

He always felt like a bitch afterward, knowing he could've just done like his fellow male comrades and charm a gullible girl into doing it for him. Again, that was against his morals. So he'd be a little bitch if it meant not feeling even more like a disappointment to his family.

"Fuck..." He sighs as he pressed one hand against the tile above him.

He closed his eyes and imagined one of the girls in the recent playboy magazine he skimmed through the other day. There was a busty brunette, a blonde with a tight ass, and a red head with beautiful smooth looking legs.

"Oh man... Oh, fuck..." He murmurs, feeling the pleasure racing through.

He squeezed his eyes harder, remembering the red head legs. They were willowy and he usually didn't go for the small bodied type, but he loved those damn smooth looking legs. He wondered if those long legs would wrap around him tightly?

Then his mind traveled to the blonde with the tight ass. What else was tight about her?

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." He throbs in his hand.

His thoughts were working wonders. He has one last playboy bunny to imagine and he would see stars and maybe even sweet baby Jesus himself.

The busty brunette. Oh shit, she was beautiful and her breast looked natural. George liked natural. The stretch marks, the thickness, hell even the natural cellulite. He didn't judge, but he did have standards. The busty blonde was befitting in his category of standards and his partner certainly agreed.

He imagined her mounting him and those beautiful breasts of hers bouncing. God damn he could feel his mouth tugging at her pink nipples. He imagines the busty blonde liking it and purring for him to never stop.

That is all it took for George to quake quite violently and spill onto the tile of his shower. He even finds himself panting harshly as pressed both palms into the tile above him. He didn't feel like a bitch this time, but he knew he had to get laid soon.

Therefore he grabbed a washcloth and washed away the agitation. He shouldn't be focusing on that as of now. He has a dreaded dinner with his family in two hours and he has to call Justin back. The day was already looking bright for George, hence the sarcasm.

Three pairs of Caribbean blue eyes surveyed George. All he wanted to do was say hello and leave just as quick as he came in the shower two hours prior. That was pretty quick he had to admit. He didn't feel like explaining his situation, but the university left him no choice.

His lie was out in the atmosphere and the daggers he is receiving from the three pairs of familiar eyes are proof of how far his lie was out there.

Why the fuck did the university decide to call the week of Christmas? The personnel in the office obviously doesn't have a life and decided to ruin others. Well, congratulations to that dickhead. George's life is ruined.

"So you're just gonna stand there and not explain yourself?" His father is the first to speak up.

George tried not to roll his eyes at his father. After all, his father is the reason George is in this predicament anyways. If he wouldn't drill some much bull shit about being like his sister into George's head, maybe, just maybe he and the other two wouldn't be so angry right now.

George only sighed out a way to mentally release the tension building up inside of him. The tension is being induced by the anger he feels and he is trying his best to contain it. He loves his family and understands that they are just trying to help him, but how can he respectfully tell them to fuck off?

"I don't know what to say." George finally breathed.

His father's eyebrow quirked in unhappy amusement. He knows his son is better than this. Hell, George is a Mills. Mills are natural dominators in everything they do.

He knows his son is capable of many things, but what he doesn't understand is why his son keeps trying for something that obviously isn't working? It's a waste of the money he and his wife saved up for their dear son's college funds.

"What I want is a God damn explanation of why you failed this class, again! Dammit George, that is money you're costing us!" The father fumes.

He cannot believe how nonchalant his son is about this. Maybe he and his wife gave him too many praises as a child? Perhaps he and his wife should have been tougher. Would that have changed this outcome?

George rolls his eyes this time not caring that his father's jaw ticked at the motion. He didn't care how disrespectful he looked at as he did it. He didn't want to care anymore. Fuck his family is what he wants to say.

If these three people truly understood, they would back off or at least listen. No. Instead, these three judge and pester.

"George... You're my little brother and these are our parents, show some respect." His sister sighs.

That's it.

"Fuck you Megan! You don't understand shit! Don't come here, off your mighty damn horse and tell me what the fuck to do! You have no goddamn right!" The words felt good to release but the aftertaste of them all reminded him of vomit.

The pain in his elder sister eyes nearly broke him as he watched her withdraw from him. Her bright oceanic eyes instantly dimmed at every word. He didn't mean to be harsh, but he was angry and that was the truth. He couldn't take it back now.

"George, if you don't fucking apologize to your sister, so help me God..." His father steps up to him, never finishing his threat as his dangerous eyes did it for him.

"George... please." Angie pleads, glancing between father and son.

"Sorry. Okay, I'm fucking sorry for feeling like I have to shit gold bricks in order to be able to stand next to you. I'm sorry for not being as perfect as Megan fucking Mills!" George was heated again. "I am motherfucking sorry for being fucking sorry at being fucking sorry!" He concluded, grabbing his nearby leather jacket from the coat hangers.

He stormed out of the living room, ignoring the threats of his father. Fuck him too. He has no right to judge George for trying. He should be happy that his son refuses to give up. Asshole.

George stormed all the way out into the storm brewing outside. He had a thirty-minute drive ahead of him, but the storm outside was no match for storm calculating inside of him currently.

So he hopped into his Ford truck and zoomed right out of the Mills driveway and sped off as if he was running away from everything. In a way, he was.

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