just one beer short. She made a sad, apologetic face. It hadn’t an ounce of sincerity in it. “Oh, I’m sorry. If I’d known you were coming I would have picked up enough beer.” The sarcasm in her tone was spot-on Bette Davis.
It was my turn for fake smiling and tongue biting. I knew she told a bald-faced lie. I’d been in the room with Dick when he made the call letting her know that I’d be at the event to take pictures. I looked at her, this self-proclaimed Christian woman and thought: there isn’t a Christian bone in this Catholic woman’s body. I wondered if it hurt her skin to hold in that much nastiness.
Dick offered to split his beer with me. It was good that she couldn’t load her eyes with bullets. We both would’ve been dead.
Chapter Twelve
During what should have been a long, quiet drive home, Dick yammered excitedly. First about the event itself. Then about how great he’d done. And finally about a couple of the other athletes he’d met that morning in the registration tent.
“ The ass on the guy in the gray wetsuit, Jesus H. Christ! Ass of death. I could die fucking that ass. He would die from me fucking that ass. Hence, ass of death.” Animated limbs flew everywhere as he talked.
“ You okay?” I asked. I was ducking arms.
“ He didn’t have much in the coin bag. But you know what they say, the smaller the cock, the quicker the pop. And the last thing I care about is spending time on a front door when the back door is where the action is.” He made a ridiculous thrusting movement with his hips that made me laugh.
“ You’re mixing metaphors,” I said, knowing full well he’d ignore me. I was in his periphery during this ride. Just there to listen to what he wanted to say.
The highway ahead of us was seventy miles of blank space. He was in his sweat-cutoffs, and smelled like a barnyard. Instead of being dog-tired, he was bouncing all over the place. I didn’t know if I could tolerate it for the rest of the drive.
“ Oh my God, I’m so horny. My nuts feel like sandbags weighing my dick down!” he announced out of the blue like a man unable to restrain any thought that passed through his mind. “I gotta get off! This is crazy. I can’t stand my dick feeling like it’s going to explode. You ever have that?”
I informed him we were still an hour away from the apartment. Small details like that were incidental to him at this point.
An impish giggle burst from him. “Hard cocks don’t wait for anyone or anything,” he said. And with that, he stripped out of his ragged sweat-shorts and briefs. His legs stretched out in the car, filling it with the smell of stale sweat. From my nervous sideways glances at him, I saw his cock release and flip upward to the edge of his shirt. Leaning back and sliding down in his seat, he admired his own hunk of hard flesh as if Michelangelo had personally sculpted it.
“ What are you doing?” I asked both thrilled and panicked. “What if we get pulled over, you dipshit? What if a bus drives by, or a guy in a Mack truck?” I was checking my side and rearview mirrors.
That statement appeared to amuse him. “What if I just christen your car?” And with that came another bizarre burst of laughter. “Imagine a priest christening things like that?” He pointed at his dick in three directions as he said, “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost,” and then he laughed again.
He began stroking himself. I began thinking of excuses I could make to the cops should I get pulled over.
I should have made more of a protest. Each passing vehicle sent a stab of terror in my chest, worrying we might be caught. On the other hand I thought, how many men have the opportunity for a gorgeous stud to strip half naked in their car and jack off?
“ Did I tell you about the priests at Saint Jude’s when I was a kid?” Again, asked for no reason in the middle of his masturbatory act. “It’s the church behind my folks’ house. I went
It was my turn for fake smiling and tongue biting. I knew she told a bald-faced lie. I’d been in the room with Dick when he made the call letting her know that I’d be at the event to take pictures. I looked at her, this self-proclaimed Christian woman and thought: there isn’t a Christian bone in this Catholic woman’s body. I wondered if it hurt her skin to hold in that much nastiness.
Dick offered to split his beer with me. It was good that she couldn’t load her eyes with bullets. We both would’ve been dead.
Chapter Twelve
During what should have been a long, quiet drive home, Dick yammered excitedly. First about the event itself. Then about how great he’d done. And finally about a couple of the other athletes he’d met that morning in the registration tent.
“ The ass on the guy in the gray wetsuit, Jesus H. Christ! Ass of death. I could die fucking that ass. He would die from me fucking that ass. Hence, ass of death.” Animated limbs flew everywhere as he talked.
“ You okay?” I asked. I was ducking arms.
“ He didn’t have much in the coin bag. But you know what they say, the smaller the cock, the quicker the pop. And the last thing I care about is spending time on a front door when the back door is where the action is.” He made a ridiculous thrusting movement with his hips that made me laugh.
“ You’re mixing metaphors,” I said, knowing full well he’d ignore me. I was in his periphery during this ride. Just there to listen to what he wanted to say.
The highway ahead of us was seventy miles of blank space. He was in his sweat-cutoffs, and smelled like a barnyard. Instead of being dog-tired, he was bouncing all over the place. I didn’t know if I could tolerate it for the rest of the drive.
“ Oh my God, I’m so horny. My nuts feel like sandbags weighing my dick down!” he announced out of the blue like a man unable to restrain any thought that passed through his mind. “I gotta get off! This is crazy. I can’t stand my dick feeling like it’s going to explode. You ever have that?”
I informed him we were still an hour away from the apartment. Small details like that were incidental to him at this point.
An impish giggle burst from him. “Hard cocks don’t wait for anyone or anything,” he said. And with that, he stripped out of his ragged sweat-shorts and briefs. His legs stretched out in the car, filling it with the smell of stale sweat. From my nervous sideways glances at him, I saw his cock release and flip upward to the edge of his shirt. Leaning back and sliding down in his seat, he admired his own hunk of hard flesh as if Michelangelo had personally sculpted it.
“ What are you doing?” I asked both thrilled and panicked. “What if we get pulled over, you dipshit? What if a bus drives by, or a guy in a Mack truck?” I was checking my side and rearview mirrors.
That statement appeared to amuse him. “What if I just christen your car?” And with that came another bizarre burst of laughter. “Imagine a priest christening things like that?” He pointed at his dick in three directions as he said, “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost,” and then he laughed again.
He began stroking himself. I began thinking of excuses I could make to the cops should I get pulled over.
I should have made more of a protest. Each passing vehicle sent a stab of terror in my chest, worrying we might be caught. On the other hand I thought, how many men have the opportunity for a gorgeous stud to strip half naked in their car and jack off?
“ Did I tell you about the priests at Saint Jude’s when I was a kid?” Again, asked for no reason in the middle of his masturbatory act. “It’s the church behind my folks’ house. I went
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