“This is the end to my Saturday night. My cat has watched me whack off to a vision of my best friend. “Don’t say a word,” I hiss. He looks away, lifting his chin haughtily. But he’ll keep my secret. I’ll keep his, too, the fucking little voyeur.”
“You don't want a tiny diamond on your finger when you can have three carats. You don't want a one-dollar bill when you can have a Benjamin. And you don't want to ride a miniature pony when you can saddle up on a rock-star cock at the rodeo of your pleasure.”
“You’re not supposed to be attracted to your best friend like this. That’s not how it works. I’m probably going to have to get checked into a facility to deal with the amount of attraction I have for you. I’ll ask them to remove it, and they’ll say ‘sorry, sir, it’s spread across your entire body and we can’t take it out’.”
“Because if you’re my fiancé, you need to be comfortable with me being naked,” she says with a crisp nod. Shit, she’s going to do it. She’s going to drop the towel. She’s going to make us practice fucking. I am the luckiest man on the face of the earth.”
“My heart trips over itself in a race to get closer to her. Something is happening. Something strange and completely foreign. My heart is speaking a language I don’t understand as it tries to fling itself at Charlotte. Great. Now, that’s two organs I have to do battle with every day.”
“and I’ve been dubbed adorable. I am not okay with this. This is not acceptable. Charlotte is so getting fucked from behind tonight so she knows there’s nothing adorable about me.”
“I do my best work in the bedroom. This is completely my domain. So it should be no big deal that she asked me to wait here. But something about being in Charlotte’s bedroom is wigging me out. Mostly because there’s nudity transpiring mere feet away. She’s taking a shower, and no matter how you slice them, New York apartments are thimble size. Let me spell this out—There is a wet, naked, hot woman in a ten-foot radius. Got it? Okay. Moving on.”
“Fido and I have an understanding: I feed him, and he doesn’t cock-block me.”
“We are teetering on something. Something I shouldn't want. Something I want desperately.”
“Once you’ve had filet mignon, you don’t want to go back to hamburger helper.”
“My heart trips over itself in a race to get closer to her.”
“But here’s the secret to success when you possess a much-larger-than-average-size cock. You can’t just wave it around like a big bat. You’ve got to treat it like a baseball manager does a closer. A cock with firepower is your secret weapon, and it’s worth its weight in gold if you know what to do with the rest of the lineup. Meaning, the dick should never be the star of the show. The woman’s name should be the one in lights, and you need to make her feel that way from start to finish. Warm her up right. Use all your tools—hands, fingers, mouth, tongue, words.”
“she inches her fingers tighter around my waist. So tight that for a sliver of a second it seems like…like she’s copping a feel of my abs. Okay. That’s not even remotely a problem at all. Those rock-solid abs are there for your pleasure, m’lady.”
“You’re the only woman I want to love.”
“Mr. Offerman clasps his hand on top of hers. “It’s a good hobby for you, dear. It gets you out of the kitchen.”
I straighten my spine. Are we in the fifties here? “Out of the kitchen?”
“Do it" she commands. "I need to know I won't cave, I need to prove to myself that even the torture of tickling won't make me give up the secrets of my best friend." I unbutton my cuffs, and roll up my shirt sleeves to my forearms "Don't go easy on me." she says. "Not in my nature.”
“Yum.” She smacks her lips and mimes making a cat claw. She leans into me and whispers, “I am so going to be visiting him one-handed tonight in my fantasies.”
“when it comes to my best asset, all I want you thinking about are these words: long, thick, smooth, hard. If the Renaissance masters were carving sculptures of cocks, mine would be the model for all of them.”
“He really was a pig,” I say, with a quirk in my lips. “He was completely disrespectful to women, to his wife, to his daughters—I can’t have the Katharine’s legacy carried on by someone like that.”
“Take that first step, and the next thing you know, you’ve completed a jerk-off hat trick to your bestie. But”
“That’s the thing about slippery slopes. Take that first step, and the next thing you know, you’ve completed a jerk-off hat trick to your bestie.”
“Any man who is friends with a woman has taken the old imagination out for a stroll to Kissing Avenue, then Lovers Lane, then Fucking Street.”
“I’ve got to remember to ask her if she can tie a knot in a cherry with it, too. Not that it matters. I have no use for knotted cherries. But”
“There's only one cure for weirdness.”
“I leave, and I should earn a commendation for self-restraint. I’m going to contact the Guys’ Committee and let them know what I accomplished tonight in the resistance category. I’ll fully expect a gold medal in the morning and, frankly, an awards ceremony, considering the level of difficulty.”
“I head to the bathroom. I wash my face, brush my teeth, and try to put the evening behind me. Look, it’s not hard to turn down a drunk girl, because that’s just wrong. But it was hard, for some unknown fucking reason, to turn down her. Those things she was saying. Those wicked, dirty words falling from her red lips. They torched a path up my body. They stirred something inside me. Some wish. Some want.
That kiss on the street was one thing.
The session on her couch was entirely another.
But the cab was a whole new wrinkle. She just combusted, like a rocket of lust, firing off in every direction, jumping me, climbing me, grinding on me.
I wanted it all.
I wanted her.
I still do.”
“When I open my eyes, Fido is at the foot of my bed, licking his paw. He drags it over his furry face, then behind his ear. He stops his post-meal bath to stare at me, a disdainful look in his beady yellow eyes.
This is the end to my Saturday night. My cat has watched me whack off to a vision of my best friend.
“Don’t say a word,” I hiss.
He looks away, lifting his chin haughtily.
But he’ll keep my secret.
I’ll keep his, too, the fucking little voyeur.”
“Charlotte!” he calls out, waving to her. “Did you get the balloons?”
He pulls up next to us, barely making eye contact with me.
“They didn’t fit in the elevator, but it really doesn’t matter. You need to stop sending me gifts. It’s over with us. In fact,” she says, and reaches out to grab my free hand, threading her fingers through mine and surprising the fuck out of me, since she’s not a hand-holder, “I’m engaged to Spencer now.”
That surprise over her holding my hand? It’s nothing compared to the surprise from what comes next.
She thrusts her coffee cup at Bradley, and in the blink of an eye she wraps her hands around my neck, and presses her lips to mine.”
“Charlotte is kissing me.
On the streets of New York.
Her lips are on mine.
She tastes fantastic.
Like cream and sugar and coffee and sweetness. Like all the good things in the world. Like I imagined she’d taste.
Not that I’ve been thinking about kissing my best friend.
But, look, you can’t help where your mind wanders sometimes as a guy. Any man who is friends with a woman has taken the old imagination out for a stroll to Kissing Avenue, then Lovers Lane, then Fucking Street.
Which is exactly what I’m going to be visiting in Ye Olde Brain if she keeps brushing those lips softly against mine in this fluttery¸ lingering kind of kiss. Because it is getting harder to think about anything other than turning up the volume on this lip-lock.
A lot harder.”
“I set down the picture, inhale deeply, and straighten my shoulders. The door creaks open. She steps out of the bathroom wearing only a white fluffy towel wrapped above her breasts.
“You might be wondering why I asked you to wait in my bedroom instead of the living room,” she says, in the most matter-of-fact of tones.
I have no clue how she can be talking like we’re having a business transaction while droplets of water slide down her bare legs. But I’m a strong man. I can handle this. I’m not tempted at all by my best friend. My dick, however, begs to differ, the traitorous prick.
“The thought crossed my mind,” I say, as I lean against the bureau, striking a casual pose.
“Because if you’re my fiancé, you need to be comfortable with me being naked,” she says with a crisp nod.
Shit, she’s going to do it. She’s going to drop the towel. She’s going to make us practice fucking. I am the luckiest man on the face of the earth.”
“You’re going to work some puppets for me. Marionettes. That sound too hard?” “Marionettes?”
“Man," I cried, "how ignorant art thou in thy pride of wisdom!”
“I'd rather make a mistake than yield my destiny to someone else.”
“If you cannot bear our pain, you are not fit to carry our strength.”
“Attention, strong, independent women of the world: Please tell me how to turn this stupid voice off”
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