Unstoppable by Scott Hildreth Page A

chicken breast and nodded my head jokingly as I gnawed the meat from the bone. If there was anything more satisfying for a man than actually fucking, it was telling your friends about it after it happened. I always seemed to make an event out of fucking, so my stories were generally pretty damned good. For me, the look of shock on Dekk’s face was a form of assurance I did my job well with Barbee.
    “And I’m sure you wore your shoes the entire time,” although he tried to remain serious, Dekk started laughing as he finished speaking.
    “Yep,” I said as I reached for a toothpick.
    I pulled my beer from the table and leaned back in my chair, picking the chicken from my teeth. From the time I was a kid, I have spent the majority of the time in my home naked. My first recollection of doing so was partially a recollection, and partially a memory of a story which was told to me over and over by my parents and family members.
    At the age of three, on an early summer day, my mother was trying to get me dressed. After throwing quite a tantrum, I took off through the house, stark naked. Out the back door I went, and into the yard. My father at work, my mother was my only worry. As she attempted to catch me, I would run, screaming the entire time. Eventually, she gave up and went inside the house, attempting to wait for me to give in and give up.
    Part of what makes me a good boxer is the fact I am stubborn. This characteristic started at a very early age, and I certainly wasn’t immune to it at three years old. I refused to go inside, and refused to get dressed. At lunch time, when she came outside to get me, I took off down the street, still as naked as the day I was born.
    Startled looks from the neighbors and people passing by were greeted by my signature hands on the hips pose of pride I still use today. Reports to my mother from neighbors flooded in all day, testifying to my nakedness and free reign of the neighborhood.
    I spent the day without food, naked, walking around the neighborhood. Things seemed so much clearer when I was naked. I felt clean, free of restriction, and able to face the neighborhood without any denial of who I was or what I was about.
    Free will.
    Oddly enough, I ended up in a profession where my work attire consisted of a pair of shorts. When not boxing, I typically wear my signature attire; a pair of cargo shorts, and a wife-beater. Getting dressed up for me might include a tee shirt. Topped off by a pair of Chuck’s with no socks, I am as close to naked as the law will allow me to be – at least in Texas.
    In the comfort of my own home, I spent as much time as possible naked. If I had guests, I typically wore shorts and Chuck’s. If I had a house full of guests, some of which I didn’t know, I would complement my wardrobe with a wife-beater - out of respect.
    I laughed at the thought of Brandee and her sister’s thoughts of my nakedness.
    “Dude, she asked me if I was showing off. I fucking had to laugh. I said, ‘Listen, I would be naked if you were gone, and I sure as fuck ain’t getting dressed because you’re here’. She asked about the Chuck’s, and I told her I hated steppin’ on shit. Funny how a guy can get hit in the jaw by a two hundred and fifty pound goon, but stepping on a pebble will bring him to his knees,” I pulled my toothpick from my mouth and finished my beer.
    “So what about Liv?” Dekk asked as he rolled his eyes again.
    “What about Liv?” I sat up in my chair and rested my forearms on my knees.
    “Well, what do you think she’ll feel like if she finds out?”
    “Well, she ain’t gonna find out. Barbee sure as fuck ain’t gonna call her and tell her. And I already told her the same thing I told Barbee. You know how I roll,” I gave Dekk my best form of an evil stare.
    “You tell these girls that you’re fucking them, and there’s to be no feelings involved,” Dekk paused and looked up at the ceiling.
    “Yeah. I tell ‘em that up front. They