The Average American Male
Page 21
I look away from my game of Modern Warfare and stare right at my 4-year-old son’s dick as he twists it up as far as the skin will stretch. He starts bouncing up and down, doing a little dance, happy that I’m paying attention. He says, “Can yours smile, daddy?”
Again, I have no idea what to say. I reason that I probably shouldn’t make him feel isolated or strange or different from his dad in any way. So I say, “Yeah, mine can smile.”
He says, “Make him smile. I want to see.”
I imagine myself comparing smiling dicks with my son for a few seconds before Alyna comes out, sees him mangling his cock and says, “Andy, you were supposed to put on your PJ’s.”
He says, “Look Mommy, he smiles.”
Before I can even take note of how Alyna handles it she says, “Yes, he does. But once it’s night time he needs to sleep.”
Andy says, “Okay, mommy,” drops his dick and lets my wife hustle him off to bed. Even though she barely fucks me anymore, she’s a good mom. That’s the last thought I give the situation before getting in one more game of Free For All. Then Alyna comes out of the kids’ bedroom, turns off the Xbox and says, “They’re asleep. Game over. American Idol. Then bed. I’m exhausted.”
This is the exact phrase and action Alyna uses every night with only minor variation where the name of the reality TV show is concerned. After she watches American Idol she says, “I’m going to bed. You coming?”
I say, “Yeah, just need to check some work e-mails real quick,” then I wait for her to go into the bedroom and I go to the office where I turn the sound on the computer down as low as possible without turning it completely off, jerk off to some pregnant porn, blow my load in my hand, go to the guest bathroom, wash my hand, then go into the bedroom to find Alyna already asleep and snoring.
The last thought that crosses my mind before I enter dreamless sleep is a memory of fucking the girlfriend I had before Alyna, Casey, in a tiny hotel room with the window open on a trip we took to Catalina Island when we were young.
Chapter Three
Meeting With My Boss
For the last three hours I’ve been sitting at my desk drinking green tea because it’s supposed to help me live longer and trying to write a proposal I know no one will ever read. I decide to reward myself with a long walk to the bathroom to take what I hope will be the longest piss of my life followed by a liberal washing of my hands. I assume I can waste at least 10 minutes on these two activities.
I open the door to the first floor bathroom just in time to hear what sounds like somebody dumping a can of Dinty Moore Beef Stew onto wet concrete followed by a long exhale. I look under the door of the only occupied shitter and don’t recognize the shoes so I have no idea who’s responsible for my burning lungs as I walk to a urinal and unzip my pants, disappointed that my only minutes of respite from a job I hate have been ruined by the unknown guy taking a crap.
Just as I’m starting to get jealous of whoever it is because I assume they’ll get to spend more of their work day in the bathroom than I will, I hear a flush, then the door opens and my boss, Lonnie, steps out still zipping his pants back up. He breaks one of the cardinal rules of bathroom etiquette and looks me directly in the eye through our reflections in the mirror. My cock is in my hand and I’m pissing as I feel obligated to recognize our shared glance in some way. I nod. He returns it.
My cock is still in my hand when he steamrolls the rest of the cardinal rules of bathroom etiquette and starts a full on conversation with me. He turns the water on at the faucet closest to me and says, “Glad I caught you in here. Save me a trip to your office this afternoon,” and puts his hands under the running water. No soap.
I’m trying to maintain some shred of dignity in the situation so I don’t say anything. I just nod again.
He says, “You know our departmental intern, Jim or Stan or whatever?”
I nod.
He says, “He just told me he’s leaving at the end of the week. We still have a mountain of old reports and proposals that need to be filed and I’d rather not pay someone to come in and do it if you catch my drift. You mind rounding up another intern to replace him?”
I try to just shrug my shoulders as if to imply through body language that I’m responding with an attitude of compliance. Instead I shrug my shoulders and actually say, “No problem,” while my dick is still in my hand.
Lonnie says, “Great, just call USC or UCLA or where ever we got this last one from. Or even CSUN or something. I guess it’s closer. That’s probably the way to go. Thanks.”
Then he does a shitty job of drying his hands with one paper towel and pats me on the shoulder. My cock is still in my hand and he still hasn’t used any soap. I finish pissing, zip my pants back up, wash my hands with soap for much longer than necessary, dry them and then go back to my desk. I stare at the proposal for a few seconds and then decide to take the long way around the first floor to the kitchen to slowly refill my green tea.
Chapter Four
Human Garbage
Alyna gives me shit when I call her and tell her that my buddy, Todd, wants to meet me after work for a few beers. She says, “You had beers with Todd last month.”
I say, “He said he had something important to talk to me about. I’ll be home before ten.”
“Okay, but seriously, before ten, and you owe me a foot rub.”
“Okay. See you at ten.”
“You said before ten.”
“I meant ten at the latest.”
“At the latest.”
“Yeah, that’s what I said.”
“Okay. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
I hang up and catch myself literally shaking my head in disbelief at the shit I have to deal with in order to meet a friend for a few beers after work. I wonder if other married guys go through similar shit. I wonder if other married guys at least get to fuck their wives with some regularity. That would make the shit more tolerable at least. I’m guessing they endure the exact same shit.
I close my spreadsheets, shut down my computer, lock the door to my office, wonder how Gina, our receptionist, likes to be fucked as I tell her goodnight and head out to my car.
Todd’s already sitting at the bar in Firefly on Ventura when I walk in. He’s on his second beer. He says, “Dude, what up?”
I sit down next to him and say, “Same old shit, man.”
“How those kids treating you?”
“As well as kids can treat you I guess. They cry, they shit their pants, they require constant attention.”
“Sounds fun.”
“It’s not.”
I order a beer and say, “So what’s the deal? What’d you want to tell me?”
“Dude, Nikki wants to move in with me.”
“And…”
“And I think I’m gonna cut her loose.”
“Seriously? I thought you were into her. You guys have been together for a long time, right?”
“A year, dude. Longest girlfriend of all time. I was seriously into her. Her tits are great, she loves to fuck all the time, she usually smells pretty good, sometimes she cooks me shit, she’s even pretty cool - knows about movies and TV shows and shit.”
“Then what’s the deal?”
“She’s human garbage, dude. She’s fucking twenty-eight. She waits tables and still thinks she’s going to be a singer and shit. I can’t fucking listen to her tell me about how she’s going to get a band together and start doing shows anymore.”
“Sounds real bad.”
“Fuck you. It is. She’s just annoying as fuck with this singing shit and now I guess because we’ve been going out for so long, she’s comfortable enough to fart around me and she pisses with the door open.”
“So the romance is gone.”
“Fuck yes it’s gone. I don’t think I can deal with it anymore, dude.”
“That sucks but, you gotta do what you gotta do, I guess.”
“I know, but then what the fuck do I d
o? I ain’t getting any younger, dude. I doubt I can find another chick that I like even remotely as much as Nikki and I’m pretty close to outright hating her.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“It’s not. It sucks dick.”
“So why did you want me to come out? Are you asking my advice here or what?”
“No. I’m going to pull the plug but I figure I should fuck her a few more times, cum in her ass, cum on her face once or twice, fuck, maybe even get some video of it. You know, really concentrate on getting some good memories to jerk off to once it’s all over and then in a few weeks she’ll bring up the moving in thing again and I’ll say I don’t want to and that’ll probably be it. What I want to ask you is can I count on you to step it up with going out and being a wingman?”
“Fuck, man, I have kids and shit. It was hard enough even getting permission to come out tonight.”
“Thank you for validating my choice to dump Nikki with that statement. I’m never going to get married. I can’t fucking end up like you. I’ll kill myself. No offense.”
“It’s alright.”
“Don’t you ever miss when we’d go out and get hammered and wrangle some random bitches?”
“Yeah, of course, but we’re fucking old now, man. Right now we’re the creepy old guys sitting at the end of the bar that we used to fucking make fun of.”
“Really?” Todd indicates the other end of the bar with a head nod.
I look in the direction of his head nod and see a guy who is creepier and older than both Todd and I. I say, “I don’t know, maybe not. But it feels like that.”
“Well it fucking doesn’t to me. Look at those two bitches.”
Todd indicates two girls with a similar head nod who are sitting on a couch in the corner. They look young, probably in their early twenties. He says, “Let’s try to pick them up tonight.”
I say, “No.”
He says, “I’m not saying we fuck them or anything, just see if we can still do it.”
I say, “No.”
He says, “Don’t be a fucking pussy,” then gets up off his bar stool and makes his way over to the two girls. I stay where I am and watch him from across the room. He sits down next to one of the girls and starts talking. He talks to them for a minute or so and neither of them seems receptive at first but then he makes some kind of face, clearly telling a joke or an amusing anecdote and he gets one of them to laugh. Then he points over to me and both of the girls look in my direction. Todd beckons me over with a wave of his hand and I find myself getting up from my seat. On the surface I know I’m doing this to help my friend, to not be a dick to him in his time of need. But below that, I can feel myself hoping that I can still pick up a chick, that I haven’t become too old and too married to get one of these two girls to think of me as someone whose dick she wants inside her, that I have any small piece of the person I used to be somewhere still inside me, that I’m still alive.
I sit down next to them and Todd does the introductions. He says, “This is Sandy and this is Kayla.” I try my best to be amicable, to laugh when it seems appropriate, to be interesting and charming and it seems like I’m making some headway. It seems after maybe half an hour of talking to these girls that Sandy, a recent graduate of UCSB who came to Los Angeles to pursue a career in acting, is flirting with me when she touches my arm as she tells me the name of her cat is Valentine.
Todd, too, it seems is winning over Kayla with exaggerated stories about his travels around the world as a reality television producer. I’m feeling as though I would have no trouble finding girls to fuck if I were to find myself single again then Sandy says, “Is that a wedding ring?”
Before I can answer Todd says, “It was. His wife died almost two years ago but he keeps the ring on to remember her.” I shake my head at Todd, silently offering my disapproval at his lie but not wanting to blow it for him with these girls who both immediately offer their condolences to me.
We drink and talk about nothing important with these two girls for a few hours when I notice that it’s almost ten. I say, “Well ladies, it’s been great meeting you. I have to be up early for work tomorrow so I’m going to call it a night.”
Todd offers his objections and the girls follow suit but I maintain that I have a very important meeting very early in the morning. The reality is that I have a wife, a living wife, who will not suck my dick for a period of time that is even longer than would be normal if I come home late.
I give Todd some cash for my drinks, say goodbye to Sandy and Kayla, get hugs from them both, hope Alyna won’t smell their perfume on me and head out to my car. I make it home a few minutes after ten, which Alyna is not happy about but is not genuinely pissed about, either. I rub her feet as promised to soothe any animosity she might have. I’m still a little buzzed when I get in bed so I try to coax my wife into fucking me by rubbing my erection up against her ass when she rolls over. She ignores it and pretends to sleep.
I don’t jerk off once she actually falls asleep. Instead I stare at the ceiling happy. Knowing that a random chick I met in a bar would have fucked me, knowing that if I had to I could still go into the wild and hunt for my dinner calms me more than blowing a load into my hand ever could. I think that for a few minutes then I start thinking about Sandy’s tits and about what it would have been like if I had fucked her or gotten her to suck my dick. I slide out of bed, leaving Alyna sleeping and go into the office.
I search for a clip of a girl getting fucked who looks as close to Sandy as I can find. I find one of a blonde bitch with smallish tits, a big ass and shoulder length hair that is similar to what I remember Sandy’s looking like. I scroll through the video until I come to a segment that has her riding the guy’s cock in a POV shot. I jerk off for a less than a minute and blow my load all over my hand. I clear the computer’s browser history, go to the bathroom, wipe the semen off my hand with one of the wipes Alyna uses to clean the kids’ asses, sneak back into bed undetected and sleep peacefully.
copyright
The Average American Marriage excerpt copyright © 2012 by Chad Kultgen, published by HarperCollins Publishers.
The Average American Male copyright © 2007 by Chad Kultgen. All rights reserved.No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information address HarperCollins Publishers, 10 East 53rd Street, New York, NY 10022.
HarperCollins books may be purchased for educational, business, or sales promotional use. For information please write: Special Markets Department, HarperCollins Publishers, 10 East 53rd Street, New York, NY 10022.
First Harper Perennial edition published 2007.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
EPub Edition OCTOBER 2009 ISBN: 9780061738432
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
THE AVERAGE AMERICAN MALE. Copyright © 2007 by Chad Kultgen. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
ePub edition February 2007 ISBN 9780061738432
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