by Chad Kultgen
On the street Alyna says, “So I guess you didn’t really just invite me out for drinks.”
“No.”
“That was fucking insane, by the way.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“Mad? No. I’m happy. For the past week I haven’t been able to eat. I haven’t been able to sleep. I haven’t been able to do anything except think about the possibility that I might never see you again and you’d be stuck in some shitty life raising a kid you don’t want with a girl you don’t love.”
What I feel for Alyna as I hear her say this is more than affection, more than respect. It’s unquestionably love.
She puts her arms around me, kisses me, and says, “Why did you invite me here to see all this, though? You could have just told me you found out she wasn’t pregnant.”
“I didn’t want you to question it, I guess.”
“Well, you accomplished that goal.”
“So what do we do now?”
“Pick up where we left off. But what about your ex-girlfriend and her mom?”
“Fuck ’em.”
As Alyna and I walk to my car, I don’t think about what’s happening inside the restaurant. I don’t think about Casey’s world being shattered. I don’t think about how she and her mom are going to get home. I think about Alyna, her perfect ass, her lips around my cock and fucking her doggie style as I press on her asshole with my thumb. And more than that, I think about waking up with her tomorrow morning.
some chapter
Hot Girls Give Gay Guys Partial Handjobs
I’m at a bar with Todd. He’s drunk and reacting to the story about Casey being forced to admit that she wasn’t pregnant.
He says, “Holy shit, dude, that is some good-ass shit. It makes sense, too, that one night she was all over you, trying to suck your cock and shit in the car. She wanted you to fucking drop some seed in her hole so she could get pregnant and make her lie true. Dude, you’re fucking lucky to be done with that crazy bitch. Here’s to being done with crazy bitches.”
He raises the pitcher of beer he’s drinking from and we toast to being done with crazy bitches.
He nods in the direction of a girl and her less attractive friend in our vicinity and says, “See that hot bitch over there?”
I say, “Yeah.”
Todd says, “I wanna try out a new technique I read about on the Internet. But I need your help.”
I say, “What do I have to do?”
Todd says, “Pretend I’m gay.”
I say, “What?”
Todd says, “Dude, just do it,” and then walks over to the girls, points at me, and says with an overly affected gay lisp, “See my friend over there? We have a bet and I was wondering if you guys would come over and help us settle it.”
Hot girl says, “Sure.”
Less attractive girl says, “Okay,” and they both come over.
Todd says, “So here’s the deal. I’m gay.”
Hot girl says, “Okay,” just as confused as I am by this point.
Todd says, “My friend here seems to think that no man is ‘too gay’ to be aroused by a hot woman, which we have a ten-dollar wager on. Now I know this is a weird request, but to help us settle the bet, I was wondering if you’d be interested in trying to, you know, arouse me.”
Even as I hear the words come out of his mouth, I can’t believe he’s saying them. I’ve known Todd to use some extreme measures in the past, but this is by far the most insane I’ve ever seen him. I’m ready to witness a drink getting thrown in his face, a slap, a bouncer tossing him out when she starts screaming rape, but instead she smiles and says, “And you’re gay, right?”
Todd says, “Queer as a three-dollar bill, honey,” with his thickest gay lisp yet.
She says, “All I have to do is get you hard?”
Less attractive girl says, “This is nuts,” but in an encouraging way.
Todd says, “You won’t be able to, but yeah, that’s the bet.”
She says, “And I can do anything I want to you?”
Todd says, “Well, within reason. I mean, we are in a bar here.”
She gives her drink to her friend and says, “Okay.”
What I witness in the minutes that follow makes me want to cry.
She puts her hand under Todd’s shirt and bites his ear, then takes a step back and looks at him.
Todd says, “Nothing.”
She gives him a fourteen-second tongue kiss while pressing her B cups against him, then steps back and looks at his crotch, which gives no conclusive proof one way or the other.
Todd says, “Still nothing.”
She says, “Are you sure? Not even a little bit?”
Todd says, “Limp as a noodle.”
She musters up her strength for one more attack. She leans in close to Todd’s ear, whispers something, and then puts her hand down the front of his pants and starts jerking him off right in front of me and her less attractive friend, who seems to be more entertained by the show than even Todd is as she says, “Yeah, get that thing,” and takes another drink of her Long Island iced tea.
After what I estimate to be a minute and a half of solid tugging at Todd’s cock with the hot girl saying, “It feels hard, is that it?” and Todd saying things like, “It’s not totally hard. That doesn’t really count,” she finally says, “That’s a hard-on,” and pulls her hand out of Todd’s pants.
The hot girl then puts her hands in the air in victory and says something like, “Whoo-hooo! I gave a fag a boner,” then to me, “Looks like you win ten bucks.”
Later that night at Alyna’s apartment, she refuses to believe me as I recount the night’s events to her, which sound too fantastical to be real even to me as I say them. Her main problem with the story’s plausibility is Todd’s ability to suppress an erection when a hot girl is kissing him and rubbing his chest and eventually jerking him off for well over a minute.
I offer that the girl might have been drunk enough to take Todd’s word that he didn’t have a full erection or Todd might actually have some kind of superhuman erection-suppressing ability.
Alyna asks me how long I think I could suppress a hard-on if a hot girl was tugging at my cock. She then gives me a hand job and I suppress my erection for twelve seconds.
chapter forty-two
Casey’s Underwear
I keep most of my pornographic videocassettes and DVDs in the living room with the rest of my home video collection. But there are a few choice DVDs that I keep in my bedroom closet for quick viewing on the DVD player in my bedroom. This is what I tell Alyna after she asks me if I have any porn because she wants to watch one with me and do everything they do in the movie.
As she goes into my closet, I hope she picks out Cream Queens 3 so we can reenact the scene in which a bitch puts a popsicle in her cunt and then eats it. Then I realize that I don’t have any popsicles and decide to hope for her to choose Tit Bangers because I’ve only titty-fucked her a few times and I wouldn’t mind doing it again.
As she says, “Hey, what’s this?” I’m already forming my explanation for the Teeny Weenies DVD given to me as a gag gift, which I left in the closet along with the box of lube Todd packed with it for my twenty-fifth birthday. But to my surprise she’s holding up a pair of Casey’s old underwear.
I say, “I think those are a pair of my ex-girlfriend’s underwear.”
“Why do you still have them?”
“I don’t know. They must’ve gotten thrown in there at some point and she never got them back.”
Despite the fact that this explanation is probably exactly true, I don’t think Alyna buys it.
She says with a malicious smile on her face, “You don’t take them out from time to time and sniff them?”
“No.”
The sight of Alyna standing at the foot of my bed completely naked holding Casey’s underwear is strange, but even stranger is the sight of Alyna putting on Casey’s underwear, which she does.
“These are
kind of big.”
“She had a big ass.”
“Do you like big asses?”
“I like your ass.”
“Do I have a big ass?”
“You have a perfect ass.”
She walks around my bedroom in Casey’s underwear.
She says, “I want you to show me how you fucked her.”
“I don’t really want to do that.”
“Why not? Did you guys do some seriously weird shit?”
“Not as weird as this.”
She gets on top of me with her back to me and grinds her ass on my cock.
She says, “Did you like it when she’d do this? Did you like her big ass on your dick?”
I actually kind of did like her ass on my dick, but it was rare that she’d put it to use in our sexual encounters. As I look at Alyna’s ass in Casey’s underwear I start to become painfully aware of the fact that the underwear fits Alyna a little too well. By no means does she fill them out like Casey did, but neither are they grossly oversized on her. This semi-alarms me, but I convince myself that it’s some trick of my mind brought on by the mental overload created by seeing my current girlfriend in my old girlfriend’s underwear.
Feeling that my dick has become hard enough for insertion, Alyna reaches down, moves the part of Casey’s underwear covering her pussy to the side, and guides my cock into her. As she rides me, she looks back occasionally and smiles a weird kind of smile that I don’t know quite how to take. But when her head is turned away from me and all I see is her ass in Casey’s underwear bobbing up and down on my cock, I try as hard as I can to imagine that I’m really fucking Casey.
When I reach out and actually touch Alyna’s hard little ass as she rides my dick, the illusion is broken, but for the most part I do a good enough job that I might as well be fucking Casey.
I blow my load to the memory of fucking Casey doggie style on a hot summer afternoon when she was drenched in sweat from jogging.
chapter forty-three
Cap and Gown
In two weeks Alyna will graduate with a bachelor’s degree in film studies from UCLA. This never crosses my mind as she’s sucking my cock an hour before we’re supposed to go pick up her cap and gown at the UCLA bookstore.
The blow job started with me asking her to suck my cock, which doesn’t strike me as out of the ordinary until I realize I’ve never had to ask before. This realization would bother me significantly if it wasn’t immediately overshadowed by something I find vastly more important and disturbing as I blow my load—she does not swallow. Not only does she not swallow, but she doesn’t even let me finish in her mouth. Instead, as I’m about to cum, she takes my dick out of her mouth and jerks me off in a dozen or so quick strokes that send streams of my semen all over her hands and my dick and balls.
Although she’s never done this before and I much prefer her normal technique of swallowing my cum and then sucking my cock for roughly thirty postejaculatory seconds in order to rid my dick of any semen that might not have gone down her throat initially, I have no intention of bringing it up with her until she says, “Oooh, you made a mess.”
I have to say, “No, you made a mess.”
“Hey, I got you off, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but you usually swallow.”
“I know.”
In the least accusatory tone I can muster, I say, “So why didn’t you?”
She says, “I don’t know. I just didn’t feel like it.”
There are four explanations I can conjure for what she just said: (1) She’s fucking somebody else whose semen she’s more interested in swallowing than my own; (2) she’s lost her taste for semen altogether, which seems unlikely based on several months of evidence to the contrary; (3) she just didn’t want to do it before she gets her cap and gown, which makes no sense but seems plausible for a girl; or (4) she’s lost her will to suck dick, which is a more serious issue and one I’m not willing to entertain.
I accept her answer at face value and walk to my bathroom to mop up my seed with toilet paper, which takes me longer to get out of my pubic hair than I would have imagined.
When we get to the bookstore, there are roughly seventy-five to a hundred other students also there to get their caps and gowns. I overhear some of the following dialogue:
“I have a few interviews lined up, but nothing that I’m really excited about.”…“Yeah, we’ll probably get engaged over the summer and then start looking for a house next year after we’ve saved up some money.”…“Dude, I don’t give a fuck. Tell him I’ll pay for two kegs and he can pick up the other two…. “I don’t know, I’ve been thinking about going to grad school.”…“Moving in with my parents.”…“My uncle has a houseboat he said I could live on for a while.”
As Alyna and I approach the table where a fat bitch wearing glasses sits sorting through cap and gown orders, a semi-hot bitch wearing gym attire stops us with, “Hey, Alyna.”
Alyna says, “Hey, Jenny,” then introduces us and explains that Jenny was her freshman year roommate. Judging from Alyna’s response to her greeting I don’t think they’ve talked much since freshman year.
Jenny says, “So can you believe we’re graduating?”
Alyna says only semi-patronizingly, “It’s pretty crazy.”
Jenny doesn’t catch it. She says, “I know. I thought I was gonna be here for freaking ever.” Then she asks me, “Are you graduating this year, too?”
I say, “No,” and wonder if I really look enough like a college student to warrant that question from her.
Jenny says, “So what’re your plans after the big day?”
Alyna says, “I don’t know. My parents are coming out here…,” which is something I remember she told me about a few days ago but I had forgotten until now. She continues, “…We’ll probably go out and eat or something.”
Jenny laughs. “No, silly, I mean what are you going to do with your life? Do you have a job lined up or anything?”
Alyna says, “No, we haven’t really figured out what we’re going to do yet,” and they keep talking but the word “we” is ringing so loud in my ears that I can’t hear what else they say.
It’s true “we’ve” never talked about what “we’re” going to do after graduation, but “I’m” not going to do anything significantly different from what “I’m” currently doing, which is wish I was fucking Alyna instead of listening to her talk to this bitch who has somehow posed a question that elicited the “we” response from her.
I don’t particularly dislike the fact that she used the term “we” when talking about the possible direction of her future, but I’m far from being comfortable with it. I wonder how much further down the road she has thought about our relationship beyond the next time we’re going to fuck.
The ringing dies down in time for me to hear Jenny say, “Well, good luck,” and although this wish of good fortune most likely has nothing to do with me, I wonder if the part of the conversation I missed included Alyna detailing her plan to somehow force me into marriage.
Jenny leaves, we pick up Alyna’s cap and gown, and just as we’re leaving the bookstore she says, “What do you think we should do?”
I say, “I think we should go back to my apartment and fuck.”
She says, “I mean when I graduate.”
I say, “I think you should do whatever you want to.”
We don’t talk any more about it as we walk back to my apartment, where I steer our foreplay in the direction of a blow job and contemplate attempting to see if Alyna will refuse to swallow my load again, but my urge to fuck her in the ass wins out and she cums bent over a chair as I hold one of her legs up in the air and ram my cock into her ass a little harder than I think I ever have before.
some chapter
Scarface Part 3
I’m in the Beverly Center looking for something to wear to Alyna’s graduation. I go into Banana Republic and find a decent pair of pants and a shirt.
I walk up to the counter
to pay, but nobody’s there to complete the transaction. A gay guy walks by and says, “Is someone helping you?”
I say, “No.”
He gets on a telephone and makes the following storewide page: “Amy to the front register, Amy to the front register.” Then he says, “Someone will be right with you,” and disappears somewhere in the back instead of selling me the clothes himself.
When Amy comes to the register I almost shit my pants. Amy is Scarface, who I haven’t dealt with since she last called me and I rejected her offer to take me on a date. In the light of day I notice that Scarface has a hot little body, but her hairlip is more repulsive than I remember.
I’m not positive she remembers me as I toss my shit down on the counter in front of her, but when she says, “So how’ve you been?” I’m pretty sure she knows exactly who I am.
I have to say, “Fine. You?”
“Oh, pretty good. You know, just working.”
I wonder what Scarface is like in the sack as she slides my credit card through the machine. I imagine she would let me do anything I wanted to her, even if it caused her physical discomfort or even pain. That is slightly interesting to me. I decide that anything Scarface would let me do to her if I tried to fuck her Alyna would more than likely do with me willingly. As a result I make no small talk with Scarface as she wraps up my clothes.
As I sign the receipt and she gives me my card back along with my bag of clothes, she says, “Hey, I’ve got a break coming in like five minutes. Do you wanna go get some Starbucks?”
I look at my watch and say, “You know what, I’d actually really like to, but I have to be at my friend’s house in fifteen minutes.”
She says, “Oh, yeah, that’s cool. I just thought maybe, you know. It’s cool.”
I don’t say anything as I exit Banana Republic with my graduation outfit. I get into my car in the parking structure and realize the possibility of this interaction causing Scarface to call me again is not entirely implausible. I hope that she’s lost my number as I pull onto Beverly and head back to my apartment, where I jerk off thinking about Scarface eating Alyna out while I fuck her.
