THE OTHER COUPLE #1 Extra-Marital Secrets
CHAPTER 6: ANIMAL HUSBANDRY
Everyone else had left. I had done three shots of tequila in the last hour. Turk matched me, shot for shot, but somehow he was unaffected while I felt like I was under water. I was hammered.
Turk watched over me as I scraped the grill with a wire brush. When the brush tumbled over the coals, Turk blocked my arm to stop me from grabbing it.
“Just leave it,” he said, “Let it cool down.”
His hand slipped around my waist and he drag-carried me back ten feet.
“Wooo!” I said, dizzy from the sudden movement. My t-shirt slid up and the hair on his arms scratched against my bare skin. “Don’t get burned.”
“Good advice,” he said, and leaned me against the table. When the ground suddenly rushed up at me, his hands caught me again. He had incredible arms.
“Easy now,” he said.
“That table is a bit wobbly,” I slurred.
“Right,” he said.
“You know,” I spat my gum into a planter, “if you’re too drunk to stay over, then you don’t have to leave. You could just stay over!”
“Let’s get you to bed,” he said.
He wrapped my arm over his shoulder, so that our faces touched, and drag-carried me inside. He was taller and carried me easily.
“Do you want to give me a pig-me back ride?” I said.
“I don’t think it’s called that and no, I do not.”
We passed through the kitchen where Daria and Donna-Lynn suddenly pulled away from each other and faced us. Donna-Lynn crossed her arms defensively, but Daria did the opposite, coyly putting her hands behind her back. Her face was flushed. Her nipples pointed through her tank top. She rubbed her lips together, something she did when she had a secret.
“Don’t mind us,” I slurred, “Go back to whoever it was you were doing. I mean, whatever it was you were kissing.”
“I was just helping Daria with the clean up,” Donna-Lynn said to Turk. She picked up an unopened bottle of tonic water, moved it 6 inches, and then set it back down.
“We were getting a little wobbly out there,” Turk said, meaning me and how hammered I was. “Where should I put him?”
“Anywhere he won’t be in the way,” Daria said.
“I won’t be in the way,” I said, knocking over a bottle of beer which shattered on the tile, creating a spray of broken glass and beer foam.
“Upstairs, please. Thank you,” Daria said, and lightly kissed Turk on the cheek. As we lurched through the door, her hand slid to his waist where his shirt rode up, and her fingertips grazed his bare skin.
Turk drag-carried me through the den, the warm stubble of his face against my cheek.
“Your wife is so fucking hot,” he growled in my ear.
“Yes,” I drunk-whispered. “I know.”
“She touches me and I get so fucking hard. Look at what she does to me”
He indicated the giant bulge in his groin.
Impulsively, I groped the front of his pants. Jesus, it was an iron bar! I squeezed along the length of it. “What is that, a flashlight?”
“She is a fucking goddess,” he said.
“She’d be all over this!” I squeezed. “Anyone would. Anyone would suck this. Even I’d suck it.”
Turk pushed my hand off his cock and basically flew me up the stairs. He was very strong.
“Which is the bedroom?”
“On our first date?” I joked, fake-offended, “What kind of a slut do you think I am?” Then I joked, fake-whispering out of the side of my mouth, “I am a total slut,” and groped his shorts again to rub his iron bar. “I’ll suck you off right now, if you don’t believe me. I’ll swallow.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Look, I’m not proud of any of this. If my time in high school is any indication, most homophobic bigots are very insecure around bisexuals and like to push their faces into the toilet for repeated flushings. Let this be a PSA: Drunkenly groping and offering to suck off homophobic bigots is a terrible idea.
Turk pulled me into the bathroom and shut the door. He spun me by my hips and pushed me dizzy to my knees. To keep from falling over, I had to press my forehead to his stomach — and steadied myself with a flailing hand on the toilet.
Oh no. Not the toilet.
He was going to dunk my head. This was high school all over again. He was going to flush my face. Why did I get so drunk? Why did I come onto him so hard? Why did I only scrub the downstairs toilet before the party?
Turk grabbed my hair and tipped my head back. He pushed down the front of his shorts with his thumb to make a V that exposed his dark nest of pubic hair. His large cock, freed from confinement, sprang up and pointed at me, stiff like a diving board, with an engorged head emerging from its foreskin. He didn’t want to flush my face. He wanted to fuck it.
“All right, Dude. Make it quick,” he said..
