The Average American Marriage

by Chad Kultgen

  some chapter

  An Average Sunday

  9:20 A.M. Wake up with a hard-on.

  9:21 A.M. Sneak into the bathroom while Alyna is downstairs with the kids and start jerking off over the toilet while imagining the receptionist from my office on her knees sucking my dick.

  9:24 A.M. Hear someone coming up the stairs. Quickly sit down, bending my hard-on down under the seat and into the toilet. Pretend to be shitting when my son, Andy, wanders into the bathroom and shows me a picture he drew of our house.

  9:25 A.M. Lose hard-on.

  10:25 A.M. Hold Jane while Alyna clears the breakfast dishes and Andy runs around the living room screaming, “Moriarty is king! Moriarty is king!” Almost start to wonder what in the fuck he’s talking about but I know that’s a futile exercise so I just ignore him.

  11:16 A.M. Try to watch some of the morning football game when Alyna steps in front of the TV holding Jane up to my face and says, “Does it look like she has pinkeye or something?” I say, “No, she looks fine.”

  11:22 A.M. Stifle anger as Alyna mutes the game so she can call the kids’ pediatrician. From the pieces of the conversation I can overhear I figure out that Dr. Powell is making a special appointment for us on a Sunday, which means instead of watching the game I’ll get to pay him a few hundred dollars to tell me that my kid does not have pinkeye.

  12:36 P.M. Watch Dr. Powell write a prescription for antibiotic eyedrops that are used to treat pinkeye.

  12:50 P.M. Hold Jane down as she screams and kicks while Alyna forces her eyelids open and administers the drops. Answer “No” to my son’s question “Are you guys torturing her?”

  1:04 P.M. Strap the kids into their car seats. Hope the third child’s birthday party that I’ll be attending this month will have booze for the adults so I don’t kill myself.

  1:06 P.M. Buckle my own seat belt and wish my son hadn’t stopped me from jerking off.

  2:18 P.M. Pound my fourth Winnie the Pooh paper cup full of chardonnay. Ignore the disapproving looks from the other parents at this shitty kid’s birthday party. See a hot younger mom bending over to tie her tub-of-shit kid’s shoe. Think about fucking her in the ass. Wonder if she fucks her husband more than Alyna fucks me.

  2:33 P.M. Take a shit at the kid’s birthday party. Hope Jane gives at least one of these kids pinkeye. Conjure an elaborate scenario in which Jane does give the hot younger mom’s kid pinkeye, forcing us to meet randomly while filling eyedrop prescriptions at Walgreen’s, which leads to her sucking my dick in the backseat of her car, which I imagine to be the Volvo station wagon I saw parked out front. Wonder if I can jerk off in a minute or under. Wipe my ass. Get out my phone. Cue up the first clip I come to on NudeVista.com, which is a girl getting fucked in the ass. Start jerking off. Imagine the younger hot mom letting me titty-fuck her. Just as I’m about to blow a load, hear Alyna knock on the door and ask if I’m “okay in there.” Get nervous that I’ve been in the bathroom for too long and lose my hard-on. Turn off my phone. Assure her that I’m fine. Wash my hands and leave the bathroom.

  2:46 P.M. Watch the five-year-old birthday boy unwrap a Wii console and complain that it’s not an Xbox. Agree with the birthday boy.

  2:52 P.M. Look at a giant framed picture of the birthday boy and his family hanging in the kitchen. Wonder how in the fuck Alyna knows this kid’s mom. Wonder why in the fuck we had to come to this party. Wonder if this kid’s mom takes it in the ass.

  3:02 P.M. Get caught in a conversation with some kid’s dad about the kind of pool he’s having dug in his backyard. Wish I was dead.

  3:03 P.M. Refill my Winnie the Pooh cup with chardonnay.

  3:05 P.M. Almost knee some dipshit little girl in the face as I take a step and she runs past me as fast as she can, eyes closed, screaming about some other dipshit little girl taking her bracelet. Hope Jane never goes through the dipshit-little-girl phase.

  3:06 P.M. Assume she will.

  3:31 P.M. Find Alyna in the backyard with some other moms and younger kids. Act like I give a fuck about what any of them are talking about. Ask Alyna when this thing is going to end. Get a shoulder shrug. Head back inside to see if any of the guys at this train wreck have turned on a football game.

  3:32 P.M. Realize my only viewing options are Toy Story 3 or Dora the Explorer. Wonder if I could attempt jerking off again. Find out the bathroom is occupied. Wonder if it’s another dad whose wife doesn’t fuck him anymore jerking off while thinking about the young hot mom.

  3:38 P.M. Wander back out to the backyard. Find Andy playing with a little girl in the grass by a swing set. Wonder when he’ll bang a chick for the first time. Hope the chick is hot. Hope it’s in high school or, at the very latest, his freshman year of college.

  3:47 P.M. See some kid standing in the corner of the backyard by himself. Notice that faraway look in his eyes. Notice him make tiny fists. Recognize the look and actions of a kid shitting his pants. Experience relief that he’s not my kid.

  3:48 P.M. Watch that kid’s mom go over to him, raise him up, sniff his ass, and then nod back at her husband, who’s standing up near the house. Watch the husband take a long swig from his Winnie the Pooh cup.

  3:50 P.M. Take in the decorations in the backyard. Toy Story balloons, a Toy Story–themed bounce house, a Toy Story–themed ball crawl, a life-size Buzz Lightyear statue.

  3:53 P.M. Try to remember having a birthday party like this when I was kid. Can’t. Don’t think this type of shit existed when I was a kid. Remember having a birthday party as a tiny kid where two friends showed up and we ate a pizza and watched Krull on Betamax. That was it.

  3:57 P.M. Think about how weird it is that my kids won’t even know what Betamax is. Think about how weird it is that my daughter might not even know what a CD or a DVD is. Wish I was a kid again.

  3:59 P.M. Realize the party is wrapping up. Respond to Alyna waving me over to say good-bye to the hosts. Say good-bye.

  4:00 P.M. Round up Andy.

  4:01 P.M. Strap the kids into the car. Assure Alyna that I’m not too drunk to drive. Drunk-drive home.

  4:17 P.M. Unstrap the kids. Jane is asleep. Take her inside with me. Lay her on my chest, still asleep, and sit down in the recliner to watch football. Watch a few minutes before I pass out, too.

  8:34 P.M. Wake up slightly hungover and soaking wet. Realize that Jane has pissed all over me while sleeping. Call Alyna in to help me. She laughs at me, then takes Jane to the bathroom. Toss my clothes in the washer and head to the bathroom for a shower. Start to jerk off in the shower. Lose boner when I hear Alyna come into the bathroom and ask me if I can take some things to the post office for her on my way to work the following morning.

  9:06 P.M. Tuck the kids in with Alyna. Give Alyna a back rub on our bed in the hope that it’ll get her in the mood to fuck or suck my dick. Recognize the sound of Alyna snoring and realize she’s fallen asleep during the back rub. Pull the covers up over her and go into the living room.

  10:01 P.M. Watch the news. Want to fuck the news bitch.

  10:37 P.M. Put hand in pants and tug at my dick a little but am too tired to get a hard-on. Give up.

  10:40 P.M. Think about going to the office to jerk off to Internet porn but I’m too tired to get out of the chair.

  10:42 P.M. Think about going to the office to jerk off to Internet porn but I’m again unable to conjure the energy to get out of the chair.

  11:30 P.M. Watch Leno/Letterman.

  12:30 A.M. Fall asleep watching Fallon.

  1:07 A.M. Wake up. Realize I should go to bed. Reason that, if I have to get out of the chair, I should go to the office and jerk off to Internet porn. Stand up. Head to the office.

  1:16 A.M. Blow load into a paper towel that I brought from the kitchen specifically so there would be minimal cleanup while watching Little Lupe take a dick in the ass. Start playing Zuma on Facebook.


  1:32 A.M. Accidentally wake Alyna up as I get into bed. Tell her I was watching TV when she asks what I was doing.

  1:48 A.M. Hear “I love you,” say “I love you.”

  1:52 A.M. Welcome dreamless sleep.

  chapter five

  The Intern

  I’ve already interviewed two potential interns—both huge douchebags. They’re arrogant frat guys I could easily see turning into someone like my boss, Lonnie, in ten years. They talk about how exciting the world of business is to them and how much they just want to get in the game so they can start learning what it’s really like outside of an academic setting. I know every word out of their mouths is bullshit. They just need internship credit for school, and the company I work for happens to supply it. They don’t give a shit about anything. Neither do I, really, but I hope I don’t have to choose one of these fucks to be wandering around the office every day asking me if there’s anything they can do to be more productive.

  After the second dickhead leaves the conference room, I check my schedule and see that the next candidate is a girl: Holly McDonnel. I look at her résumé, already knowing it will be identical to that of every other college kid I’ll meet with. I notice she’s twenty-one and immediately think about fucking her in the conference room. Even though I have no idea what she actually looks like, I imagine she has a young, hard body, no wrinkles, wearing a skirt that almost reveals the bottom of her ass but not quite. I imagine her telling me that she’ll suck my dick if I can get her the internship. I imagine me telling her that she’ll have to suck my dick or fuck me in my office once a week to keep it. I imagine her agreeing to my terms.

  I leave the conference room and head to the lobby, where the potential interns are all waiting. Two more frat douches and a girl. She’s fucking hot. Not exactly what I imagined but hot nonetheless. I say, “Holly?”

  She says, “Yes.”

  I reach out my hand. She stands up and shakes it. I say, “Nice to meet you. Come on back,” and let her walk in front of me toward the conference room.

  She’s shorter than I would have thought, maybe five foot two, and even though her skirt isn’t as revealing as I previously hoped for, I can tell her ass is a little bigger than I would have thought from looking at her upper body. It’s not big in a bad way at all; it’s big in exactly the right way—just slightly too full for the rest of her body, which is skinny and slight. This makes her ass look even better. But it’s tight. It’s not tight from working out or running; it’s tight from being twenty-one. It’s the kind of ass that makes you grit your teeth because you can’t help thinking about biting it. It reminds me of a slightly better version of Alyna’s ass back when Alyna’s ass was all I used to think about, back when it was great. I wonder if I’ll ever get to fuck a girl with an ass like that again.

  Her hair is pulled back in a tight bun, which is hot but not what I expected. I assume she’s trying to look the part. And she’s wearing glasses. I find this hot in a nerdy, librarian kind of way. I imagine looking down at her while she’s sucking my dick and her looking back up at me through those glasses. I assume she has no episiotomy scar and she smells fucking incredible. She smells like melons and cinnamon. She smells like Alyna used to. She smells like something I want to put in my mouth.

  I didn’t do this with any of the douchebags before her, but as she sits down I ask her if she wants a glass of water or anything. She says she’s fine. I started the other two interviews by asking them why they wanted to intern at our company and followed that with a standard list of questions that resulted in answers I didn’t give a fuck about. With Holly, I decide to throw that out the window.

  I say, “So, you from Los Angeles?”

  She says, “Well, Chatsworth.”

  Without even thinking it might be inappropriate, I puke out, “Oh . . . porn capital of the world.”

  I immediately hope her response will put me at ease enough to not worry that I’ll be sued for sexual harassment. She says, “Yeah. My mom is actually in the business.”

  I can’t help myself, “Really?”

  “No. I’m just kidding.” She laughs. Her laugh is hot.

  “You had me there for a second.”

  “Sorry. I know that was probably inappropriate.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Okay. Good.”

  “So your résumé says you write for the school paper.”

  “Yeah. It’s fun. I’ve been kind of toying with the idea of being a writer, a journalist I mean, but that seems incredibly hard to make a living at, so . . .”

  “So you’re taking a bunch of business classes and that’s why you’re here.”

  “In a nutshell. I hope that doesn’t sound bad.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Okay. Good. Because I’d really like this internship. I have a friend who did his internship here a few semesters ago and said it was really a great experience.”

  “What was his name?”

  “Stanley Jimson.”

  “I can’t say I remember him, but we might have put him in a department that I don’t deal with all that much or something.”

  “Probably.”

  We stare at each other for a few seconds. There’s no way I’m giving the internship to anyone else. She must sense that it’s strange I’m not asking her anything. She says, “So, should I, like, tell you why I’d like this internship or anything?”

  I realize I probably should make this interview seem legitimate, so that it’s not blatantly obvious that I just hired the hottest chick I could find. I say, “Absolutely.”

  She gives the same answer that the two douchebags gave to the same question. It’s almost verbatim. She says, “Well, I really think I could learn a lot about the business world here and I’d love the opportunity to see how a company like this works from the inside. I’m a hard worker and I don’t mind doing anything that you guys would need me to do. No matter how small or rudimentary a task might seem to you, I’d view it as a valuable learning experience.”

  She keeps talking about some other shit, but all I can do is watch her lips move. They’re not plump, they’re not what I would consider traditionally good dick-sucking lips, but I can’t stop imagining them on my cock. I’m still staring at her lips when I notice they haven’t really moved for a few seconds at least and then she says, “So . . . yeah, that’s why I would really love to be an intern here.” I wonder if she realized I wasn’t listening to her at all. I don’t care. I say, “That’s great. Great answer.”

  We stare at each other for a few weird moments. I’m wondering if she likes to get fucked in the morning when she says, “So . . .”

  Wanting to give the illusion of legitimacy in this interview process, and also knowing that I’ll be able to let her sweat it out for a week and then have an excuse to call her, I say, “Well, thanks very much for your time. We still have some other candidates to interview, but you should be hearing back shortly.”

  She says, “Sounds good. Thank you so much for having me in and I hope to hear from you soon.”

  We stand up, shake hands, and I open the conference room door for her and show her back to the lobby. I watch her ass move under her skirt the whole time. I want to fuck her. She leaves and I go through the motions with the other douchebags who think they have a shot at the internship.

  After lunch I go to the third-floor bathroom and jerk off, thinking about Holly’s ass and lips while I watch some college-coed porn on my phone. I imagine blowing my load on her tits, which I assume are hard and perfectly shaped.

  chapter six

  My Gay Buddy

  I don’t eat lunch with my gay friend Carlos as often as I used to before I got married and had kids, but we still get together from time to time. He sent me a very demanding e-mail this morning that said I had no choice but to have lunch with him today. He apparently has big news.

 
; I’m sitting outside the Cheesecake Factory in Woodland Hills. The place is always packed at lunch hour with other shitty people doing shitty jobs that no one gives a fuck about. I thought talking loudly into your cell phone to seem important ended in the nineties, but there’s a bald guy with a giant gut talking as loudly as possible into his Bluetooth earpiece about buying and selling something. I almost don’t believe it’s real until Carlos walks up and actually says to the guy, “Hey, nobody gives a fuck about what you’re buying and selling on your fake phone call.”

  The guy is surprised and embarrassed. He walks off without saying anything. Carlos gives me a hug and says, “Long time no see, pussylicker.”

  “Yeah. The wife-and-kids thing. You know how it is . . . Oh wait, no you don’t, you’re a gay man.”

  “Fuck you. Let’s eat.”

  We sit down outside, which I hate but Carlos insists on, and get some bread and water. I say, “So what’s the news?”

  He says, “Tedward and I are getting fucking married. Can you believe that shit?”

  I say, “Wow. No. Where?”

  “Not in California, obviously.”

  “New York?”

  “Uh . . . no. I’m not a faggot.”

  “Uh . . . yes you are.”

  “No I’m not. I’m gay. I’m not a fag. Every fag in this fucking country is getting married in New York now. It was a cliché before it was even legal. Tedward has an aunt in Boston who has this gorgeous house she’s going to let us use. It’s going to be insane. And you and your brood are invited.”

  “We’ll be there. When is it?”

  “Four months from now. I’ll send you the date and everything, but about four months from now.”