punctuates this tidbit of information with a pleasant smile.
That would explain the raging torrent flowing from my ass, as well as the raging boner I’ve maintained through all this despite my revulsion. I look down at Carrie, who’s sucking away. She stops every few seconds to turn her head aside and gag, but she dives right back in again. I’m surprised at her conviction in seeing this through.
“Damn, Carrie, if you would have worked as hard at being married as you do at giving a blumpkin , we might have made it, you know?”
She looks up at me. Her face is a little green. She says, “When this is over and you pay me my share, I’m going to spend it on hiring Mongo here to torture you.”
Mongo says, “Shut up and finish.”
“I got news for you, Mongo, she could do this for days and I don’t think I’ll ever get off on it.”
“Only need one money shot,” he says. “Rest of this will be edited before sent. Just need enough footage and best shots we can get. Hollywood is tough business, you know?”
Carrie stops and looks up, but she’s kind of staring off in to space, not at anything in particular. We all hold our breath for several seconds, listening, before a resonant rumble breaks the silence. But it’s not coming from my spent gastrointestinal tract this time.
Carrie says, “Dammit, Mongo, did you spike my drink with that shit, too?”
Mongo just smiles and scoots around her toward the door. “Give me one moment,” he says and disappears into the room.
Carrie leans back with a hand on her gut. I use the break in the action to clean myself. It takes quite a bit of paper and sets me to gagging a little myself. I don’t know how she managed to keep her head down there between my legs for so long. It smells like something crawled up inside me and died. About two weeks ago.
Mongo shouts from the room, “OK, ready, both of you out here now!”
Carrie says, “Screw you jack, I need to hit that pot, like now.”
Mongo’s at the door again. “No, out here. Is part of next challenge. Two more to go.”
Carrie and I look at each other and it’s clear by the look on her face she didn’t really know what she had signed up for. “Hey man,” she says, “I ain’t doing any of that ‘Two Girls, One Cup’ puking shit on each other business.”
“Just shut whore trap and get out here now.” Mongo motions with his knife for us to come out. We both do as we’re told. Hard to argue with a three hundred-pound Chechen brandishing a weapon.
•
I stare at the plastic sheeting covering everything for a second before responding to Mongo’s comment. “We need to do a hot what?”
Mongo shoves me onto the bed. “Is called hot karl , and you need to lay skinny, pale ass on bed.” He nods at Carrie, who’s hopping from foot to foot and looking more than a little sick to her stomach. “And by looks of whore ex-wife, we should hurry before we miss opportunity.”
Carrie’s in such bad shape she doesn’t even bother to respond to his whore comment. As for me, I’m not even thinking at this point. I’m on autopilot. Whatever happens now, happens. I feel like this is one of those out-of-body deals, like I’m hovering above myself, watching with a strange detachment while these curiously odd things happen to my body.
I watch myself lie there while Mongo pulls a box of Saran Wrap from the bedside table drawer.
I note with mild amusement as he tears off a long sheet of the clear plastic wrap and places it over my face.
I am only slightly interested when he tells Carrie to squat over my head and shit on my face.
“You want me to do what?”
“This is hot karl ,” Mongo says impatiently. “And by looks of you, this will be most epic hot karl ever captured on film.” He motions to the bed and says, “Now, assume position.”
My outside-the-body self notes the look on Carrie’s face, and I can’t decide if her lips are curled in a rueful smile or a disgusted grimace. Her stomach
That would explain the raging torrent flowing from my ass, as well as the raging boner I’ve maintained through all this despite my revulsion. I look down at Carrie, who’s sucking away. She stops every few seconds to turn her head aside and gag, but she dives right back in again. I’m surprised at her conviction in seeing this through.
“Damn, Carrie, if you would have worked as hard at being married as you do at giving a blumpkin , we might have made it, you know?”
She looks up at me. Her face is a little green. She says, “When this is over and you pay me my share, I’m going to spend it on hiring Mongo here to torture you.”
Mongo says, “Shut up and finish.”
“I got news for you, Mongo, she could do this for days and I don’t think I’ll ever get off on it.”
“Only need one money shot,” he says. “Rest of this will be edited before sent. Just need enough footage and best shots we can get. Hollywood is tough business, you know?”
Carrie stops and looks up, but she’s kind of staring off in to space, not at anything in particular. We all hold our breath for several seconds, listening, before a resonant rumble breaks the silence. But it’s not coming from my spent gastrointestinal tract this time.
Carrie says, “Dammit, Mongo, did you spike my drink with that shit, too?”
Mongo just smiles and scoots around her toward the door. “Give me one moment,” he says and disappears into the room.
Carrie leans back with a hand on her gut. I use the break in the action to clean myself. It takes quite a bit of paper and sets me to gagging a little myself. I don’t know how she managed to keep her head down there between my legs for so long. It smells like something crawled up inside me and died. About two weeks ago.
Mongo shouts from the room, “OK, ready, both of you out here now!”
Carrie says, “Screw you jack, I need to hit that pot, like now.”
Mongo’s at the door again. “No, out here. Is part of next challenge. Two more to go.”
Carrie and I look at each other and it’s clear by the look on her face she didn’t really know what she had signed up for. “Hey man,” she says, “I ain’t doing any of that ‘Two Girls, One Cup’ puking shit on each other business.”
“Just shut whore trap and get out here now.” Mongo motions with his knife for us to come out. We both do as we’re told. Hard to argue with a three hundred-pound Chechen brandishing a weapon.
•
I stare at the plastic sheeting covering everything for a second before responding to Mongo’s comment. “We need to do a hot what?”
Mongo shoves me onto the bed. “Is called hot karl , and you need to lay skinny, pale ass on bed.” He nods at Carrie, who’s hopping from foot to foot and looking more than a little sick to her stomach. “And by looks of whore ex-wife, we should hurry before we miss opportunity.”
Carrie’s in such bad shape she doesn’t even bother to respond to his whore comment. As for me, I’m not even thinking at this point. I’m on autopilot. Whatever happens now, happens. I feel like this is one of those out-of-body deals, like I’m hovering above myself, watching with a strange detachment while these curiously odd things happen to my body.
I watch myself lie there while Mongo pulls a box of Saran Wrap from the bedside table drawer.
I note with mild amusement as he tears off a long sheet of the clear plastic wrap and places it over my face.
I am only slightly interested when he tells Carrie to squat over my head and shit on my face.
“You want me to do what?”
“This is hot karl ,” Mongo says impatiently. “And by looks of you, this will be most epic hot karl ever captured on film.” He motions to the bed and says, “Now, assume position.”
My outside-the-body self notes the look on Carrie’s face, and I can’t decide if her lips are curled in a rueful smile or a disgusted grimace. Her stomach
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