Bright Pink Explosions

By Anna Fock

Meet Seth Daniels, a deadbeat college instructor who returns home to bury his rich mother and decides to stick around. He has two divorces, a published novel from ten years ago, and no real ambition but to sleep with whoever will have him. It’s a rough life. An absolutely filthy life. And you’re invited to join him.

Author’s Note: This work of fiction contains extremely graphic sexual content. Recommended for mature readers only.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Flesh World
• Release date: Jun 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215018668

Book preview

BRIGHT PINK EXPLOSIONS

Anna Fock

Bright Pink Explosions copyright © 2023 by Anna Fock. All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition

Published by Sad Empire

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including mechanical, electric, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher or author.

Also by Anna Fock

Collections

Fock Me: The Collected Erotica of Anna Fock (Volume One)

Stories

Taboo Town: Taboo Trip

Taboo Town: Jerry’s New Pet

Teaching the Bad Sitter

Taboo Town: The Best Friend’s Daughter

Taboo Town: My Best Friend’s Dad

Camp Taboo

Taboo Town: The Forbidden Man

Catching the Brat

The Innocent Young Nun

The Hipster’s First Time

Teaming the Brat

Taboo Punishment

My Daughter’s Innocent Best Friend

Swapping the Brats

Selling My Innocence

The Innocent Young Maid

The Good Girl

Spanking the Brat

The Neighbors’ Innocent Young Daughters

The Girlfriend’s Innocent Young Daughter

The Innocent Young Nerd

Innocent Little Brat Unprotected

Sold to Strangers

The Boss’ Innocent Daughter

Barebacking the Brat

My Boyfriend’s Brutal Dad

The Men of the House Without Protection

Forced to Watch My First Time

Sharing the Boss’s Daughter

The Big Man of the House

Brutal Boss

Brutal Birthday

My Girlfriend’s Brutal Mom

Sold To His Friends

His Two Big Friends

Brutal Daddy

Sold to Daddy

My Stepbrother’s Brutal Girlfriend

Brutal Landlord

My Boyfriend’s Brutal Dad 2

Powerless

Shared

Hippie Girl

Little Stepsister’s Birthday

Stepbrother in the City

Chapter One

ROSA

The parking lot to Big Ed’s Bar and Grill is predictably empty. It’s a Monday, after all. I’m expecting to open the door and find the usual tables of kitchen and wait staff released from duty and drinking up their paycheck. The late summer night is balmy and the air conditioning from the bar feels good as I open the door and head inside.

There’s the table of workers. I’m thinking of wandering over there and asking if they mind me sitting with them. Most of them know me.

Hi, Jenny, I say to the bartender.

Hey, Seth, she says.

The only other person in here besides the employees is a dark-haired girl sitting toward the end of the bar. I decide I don’t want to intrude on the workers and take the stool next to the lone girl, hoping some boyfriend isn’t in the bathroom and comes back wanting to fight me. I haven’t been in a fight since elementary school.

Jenny—short, blond, athletic, a few years younger than me—says, What can I get ya?

Just a Tilted Clown. That’s the name of the IPA brewed by the brewery here in Green Falls. I feel like maybe it’s called that because the people who order it are kind of seen as clowns. I don’t know. It’s probably more innocent than that.

I turn to look at the girl sitting to my right, taking in as much of her as I can without staring. She wears her curly dark hair pulled up into a top knot, a black tank top with a light blue bra strap peeking out, olive-colored loose linen shorts, sandals. Sometimes I wish I could be invisible so I could stare at people in their natural state without being creepy. I think for the millionth time I should have become a painter or a sculptor. At least then I’d have an excuse.

Jenny sets the beer down in front of me and I glance back over at the girl, this time taking in the nicely shaped dark eyebrows and the dusting of freckles on her cheeks and nose. She glances up from her phone as though first noticing I’ve sat down next to her and seems startled.

Didn’t mean to scare you, I say.

She quickly turns the screen of her phone off and turns it face-down on the bar.

No, it’s … you didn’t startle me.

Surprise?

She makes an expression like she’s turning that word around in her head, smiles a little, and says, Maybe a little surprised.

I’m Seth, I say. I give my hand a quick wipe on my pants and offer it to her.

Oh, I … She swallows like she’s choked up. I’m Rosa. She gives my hand a little shake.

Nice to meet you, Rosa. What are you drinking? I nod to the tumbler of what looks like watery bourbon.

She snorts and says, Uh, ginger ale.

I take a sip of my beer and say, Is that … by choice?

Not really. Ms. Nazi over there wouldn’t serve me anything else. By Ms. Nazi, she means Jenny.

I laugh a little and say, "Come on now. She’s not a Nazi just because she has blond hair and blue eyes. This is a college town. Serve one underage person and the next thing you know you’ll be serving all of them and then no liquor license and then no business and then … no home. Whoring in the street. In and out of women’s shelters. Nasty addictions. Multiple STDs. Tuberculosis. An undignified death. And no one’s coming to that funeral."

She takes a sip of her ginger ale and says, And we wouldn’t want that, would we?

I wouldn’t. I like Jenny the Bartender. I take a sip of my beer and say, "They don’t even let you kids smoke anymore. What are you allowed to do?"

She rolls her eyes and says, Die in wars. Buy a gun, for now. Fuck individuals our age or older. She covers her mouth after she says this last thing and says, Sorry.

I am more than comfortable with that word. I’m probably comfortable with most words you’d want to say around me as long as you don’t get super racist.

"Super racist?"

I’m from the Midwest. I would have shriveled up and died if I were uncomfortable with light racism.

All right then, she says. I’ll try to keep my racism light.

Nice and breezy.

Don’t want to be a super racist.

Super racist is my least favorite action hero.

She nods. Good to know.

I’m not bothering you, am I?

She smiles that delightful smile again and says, Not at all. I’m just killing time. I was a little bored.

You should have no time for boredom. You from here in town or are you going to the college?

Oh, I’m from here in town.

You like it?

It’s all right, I guess. Don’t know a lot else.

My feelings exactly. I grew up here, lived some other places over the past decade or so … but now I’m back, I guess.

You sound thrilled.

It’s … fine.

She smiles and polishes off her ginger ale. I take a bigger sip of my beer. We banter back and forth for the next half hour or so. I sat next to her because she was lovely, but I’m glad she’s able to have a conversation as well. She doesn’t pick her phone up once. It’s somewhat shocking. Maybe she doesn’t have any friends.

A skinny girl with a headful of dark dreadlocks approaches the bar to get another drink.

Oh, hey, Seth, she says, noticing me.

Hey, Nadia, I say. She’s a waitress here. Sometime last week, I spent an evening buying her drinks and chatting her up. She’s also a pretty good conversationalist, and while I would have loved to have gotten the opportunity to ask her back to my house, it never came up. She was very pointed about mentioning her boyfriend, some hippie guy with the unlikely name of Cone. I never asked if that was his first or last name, whether it was given or chosen. He’s a cook here and she was just killing time while waiting for him to get off, probably the same thing she’s doing tonight.

I introduce her to Rosa and Nadia pleasantly tells her it’s nice meeting her.

I polish off my beer and have to pee.

I need to go to the restroom, I say to Rosa. You know, if you’re interested in having a drink, I have plenty back at my house, and I never ID.

Oh … um …

I completely understand if you’re not comfortable with it.

No … I just … It sounds way better than going home or sitting here crushing ginger ale all night.

Cool. It’s only a couple blocks away.

I scoot off the stool and head to the bathroom. When I get back, Rosa hops off her stool and straightens her shorts. I ignore the scolding look Jenny gives me.

Tell Big Ed I said hi, I say.

Big Ed is in the guest house until further notice, Jenny says.

Oh boy, I say. He needs my support now more than ever.

I push the door open and hold it for Rosa. Letting the door go, I take in her short, curvaceous frame and nicely rounded ass. I seriously doubt anything is going to happen back at my place but it’ll be nice having the company for a little while. For the millionth time, I feel like I’m probably a sex addict, but I dismiss the thought. I’m a man who likes to put my penis in things. It’s not always pretty, but I respect other people, none more than women, and do my best to be as honest as possible with them. I am open to almost all possibilities. I am not here to inflict my will.

The night’s warm and it smells like it’s going to rain. Purple flashes of lightning illuminate the sky in the distance.

Rosa says, That’s the first time I’ve ever been in there. Is it always that dead?

Picks up on Fridays and Saturdays. Sometimes events at the college bring people in from out of town.

We walk slowly, the insects nearly deafening around us.

This is kind of nice, Rosa says.

Yeah. I try to get out and walk around if the weather’s not too bad.

So, what do you do anyway?

I teach at the college.

"Cool. A professor."

"Ah, an instructor. The professors get very mad if a lowly instructor refers to themselves as a professor."

What’s the difference?

"About four years of college, a hundred thousand dollars, and a fetishistic fascination with the institution of higher learning."

So what you’re saying is instructors are less boring than professors.

I laugh. Exactly. We’re the party professors.

We’re nearly to my small house. Rosa doesn’t seem to be displaying any signs of craziness. I would have thought, to leave with me on such short notice, she’d have to be a little off. Maybe she really is that bored. And Green Falls is a pretty safe place. I think about this as I lead her onto my dead-end street. I live at the edge of a large state park, so it’s not as bleak as it sounds.

I’ve always liked this part of town, she says.

Me too. Zero traffic. Big, tall trees. Cool old houses.

Perfect place for a serial killer.

I mean, I’ve thought about it, but I’d probably have to drag the victims from elsewhere. This town’s so small, people would be sure to notice the depleted stock. Plus, I’m way too lazy for that.

She lets out a short, soft laugh. I want to pull her in for a hug, some sort of contact, but realize it’s probably only because I haven’t slept with anyone in months and am starved for that sort of thing. I don’t do it.

We get to the last house on the left, which is only like the third house on the street, and I say, Here we are.

I open the front door to my two-bedroom bungalow, realizing I’ve forgotten to turn the front light on.

Wow, you don’t even lock your doors.

You live here. Do your parents lock their doors.

Of course. They have a teenage daughter in the house.

I haven’t been given a reason to yet. Besides, I don’t really have much to take unless people want to read or steal the books to donate somewhere. Probably wouldn’t be able to sell them.

Like charity thieves.

Exactly. Watch out for the charity thieves.

I flip a light on to reveal my sparsely decorated kitchen. The rest of the house is pretty barebones as well.

She looks around it, wide-eyed, like she’s taking in a mansion.

It’s … a pretty old house. I don’t know what else to say.

I love it.

What street do you live on?

She hesitates and says, North College.

You’re not … in high school, are you?

Relax, she says. I’m eighteen. I haven’t been in high school for months.

Look, I told you I didn’t ID.

I just don’t want you to get weird.

According to some, I’m always weird.

Her mouth hitches up into that wry smile again and she spreads her hands and says, I was promised a drink of the adult variety.

Ah yes, I say. And what will the young woman be having?

She kind of scrunches up her nose and says, Do you have just, like, a beer? I’m not really much of a drinker.

Wait until you get to college.

I cross over to the refrigerator, open it, and take stock of my selection.

Any preferences? I say.

Just the weakest thing you have, she says.

I grab a Miller Lite I always have on hand so I don’t get too fat and hand her the can. I grab a can of Tilted Clown for myself. Might as well make an evening of it, although I’m sure I’ll graduate to bourbon later. There’s been a pattern to my nights lately.

She pops the top on her beer and I ask if she wants a glass.

Nah, she says. I’m a savage.

Cheers, I say, holding my can up to hers. She taps it gently and makes nervous eye contact with me. "Wanna go into