Blurred Lines by Scott Hildreth Page B

yanked your rod, didn’t she?”
    I shook my head, tore off the last section of plastic wrap, and pressed it into the leather.
    “Nope,” I said as I tossed the carton of wrap in the drawer of my box.
    “She sucked that motherfucker, I know she did. She’s got those DSLs. I bet that bitch can suck a marble through a straw,” he said.
    I stood, turned to face him, and raised my index finger in the air. “That’s enough.”
    “She sucked that dick. I knew it,” he said.
    I continued to glare.
    “Did she swallow?” he asked.
    I bit my bottom lip and attempted to keep my temper at bay. After a moment, he continued.
    “Fuck, yes. Gotta love a bitch that swallows,” he said.
    “She didn’t swallow,” I said through my teeth.
    “Oh?  A spitter, huh? Where’d she spit it? Did she run to the bathroom, or take her time and sit with it in her mouth for a while before she dipped out on ya?”
    “She just touched it,” I said.
    “She played with the cum? Fuck, Dude, that’s hot. Like with the tip of her finger, or her tongue?”
    “She touched my junk. Through my jeans,” I said.
    “Wait? What? She touched it? Like a through the jeans rub and tug?” he asked.
    I nodded my head.
    “Oh hell no. Not since eighth grade. That’s unacceptable. Wait till I see this bitch. I’m going to give her a proper instruction manual on what to do and not to do with a grown man’s cock. I knew that little bitch was a youngster, but holy fuckballs. That’s unacceptable,” he said.
    “You’re not going to say a word to her,” I said.
    “Don’t bet on it,” he said over his shoulder as he frantically pulled open the drawers to his box.
    “Here we go, pen and paper ready. I’m going to draw stick figures to keep it from being too graphic. What should I name it? You know, the title?” he asked.
    “Name what?” I asked as I began to walk in his direction.
    “Her instruction manual.” he responded.
    “If you say one word to her about this…”
    He shrugged his shoulders. “Free country.”
    I stepped behind him, craned my neck over his shoulder, and glanced down at his note pad. A standing stick figure with an erect stick dick stood over a stick woman on her knees with her head impaled on his cock. The cock was all the way to her stick throat, depicted on the paper as a dashed line once it entered her “O” shaped mouth.
    “Give me that,” I said as I reached for the pad.
    He yanked the pad to the side, jumped from his stool, and ran to the front of the shop.
    “No way, Dude. She needs to learn the proper way to handle a man’s junk. A through the pants rub and tug is reserved for middle school. You’ll thank me later,” he said.
    The thought of Tyler doing anything to jeopardize my relationship with Riley was unacceptable. Riley was good for me, and I suspected I could also be good for her. Together, we would be nothing but goodness. I looked so forward to the next time I was able to see her, and I would be damned if Tyler’s insensitive sense of humor was going to come into play in our next meeting.
    Enough was enough.
    “Give it to me,” I demanded.
    He shook his head.
    “You’re fired,” I said.
    “Fired? You can’t fire me, you need me,” he screeched.
    “You’re…”
    “Fired…”
    “Dude…” he whined.
    “Seriously, I’m tired of the bullshit. Get your shit and get out now,” I said as I pointed toward the door.
    “Here, take it,” he said as he extended his arm.
    The pad dangled loosely from his fingers.
    “Get out,” I bellowed.
    With wide eyes and a shaking lower lip, he stood and stared. I turned toward his work station, opened the drawers to his box, and shoved everything that belonged to him in the box. I grabbed the handle on the end of the box and drug it across the concrete floor and to the front door.
    “Last chance to part as friends,” I said as I pointed to his box.
    “Dude, don’t…”
    I pushed the door open, shoved his box onto the side walk, and released