“It’s Wednesday,” he said.
“Yeah?” I looked around, trying to find something to wipe my hand off on. There was nothing, so I shrugged and wiped it on the carpet.
“Hump day,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at me. “And we just humped.”
I stared at him.
“Well, we did,” he said, pouting attractively.
“I’m not even going to touch that one.”
“Ha! Because you already did.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
And I absolutely stared at him when he undid his suspenders and dropped his slacks so he could step out of his underwear. I was a good fiancé, and I wanted to make sure he didn’t trip himself and fall. It had nothing to do with ogling his junk at all. Why, that would just be creepy.
“You want to hold my underwear in your pocket for the rest of the day?” he asked me as he zipped his slacks back up while I did the same. “You can if you want.”
I sputtered loudly at him.
“Awesome,” he said, reaching over and shoving his jizzy underwear in my pocket before I could stop him. “Whoa, freeballing is hardcore. It’s like my bean and weenies are just all out and about.” He moved his hips a little. “I might have to do this more often.” He leered at me. He looked like a devious puppy. “All of the things more often.”
“I have no idea what just happened,” I said to no one in particular.
He grabbed me by the front of my shirt and pulled me in for another kiss. “I showed you one of the many, many reasons why I can’t wait to marry you,” he said against my lips. “It’s real, Paul. It’ll always be real.”
And if I swooned a little at that, I don’t know that I could be blamed.
And then came the furious banging on the door. “Paul,” Sandy hissed. “Paul!”
Making sure we were both decent, I turned around and unlocked the door, pulling it open. Sandy stood on the other side, hand raised in a fist to knock again. “What?” I snapped at him.
“What did you say to—holy shit it smells like porn.” His eyes widened. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it.” He glanced over my shoulder, and if it were possible, his eyes got even bigger. He looked like an anime princess. “Vince looks destroyed. What the hell did you do?”
I shrugged, acting like the badass I was. “Gave him the ol’ what for.”
“He has my come-soaked underwear in his pocket because we’re kinky bitches,” Vince said proudly.
Even Sandy squeaked at that.
“You told me to do this,” I reminded Sandy, not really surprised that my life had come to this point.
“I never thought you actually would. I can’t even—no, I don’t want to even think about it. I’m still not over the incestual sex dream I had, and this is just adding to it. No, I came here for a reason.”
“And that would be?”
He was staring at Vince’s crotch. “Really not wearing any underwear?”
Vince smiled. “When I move, it feels like I’m helicoptering my penis.”
“This is nobody’s fault but my own,” I muttered.
“How nice for you,” Sandy said.
“Hey!” I barked. “Stop staring at his dick. You have your own homo jock.”
“Right,” Sandy said, shaking his head as if he was trying to snap himself out of it. “Mildred. What did you say to Mildred?”