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Blue Balls, part the first...
The jungle… home to the mighty lion, the caribou, and the king of beasts, the Koala bear…
The birds flock away, terrified by some unseen presence… The verdant underbrush rustles, casting off the condensed humidity on it’s leafy fronds as a bronzed, rope-muscled body erupts from beneath it… Stephen Sharp is running full tilt from his pursuer… Tattered strips of khaki barely concealing his naughty bits and disheveled hiking boots flopping off his feet as they pound the dark soil, his well-stubbled face gleaming with sweat and desperation, he hazards a glance over his shoulder, but the creature still lopes horrifically after him on toned, limber limbs…
He skids to a halt, coming to a steep, muddy drop off, and barely has time to turn before the tribeswoman pounces upon his chest, sending them both tumbling out into the abyss… They careen down the grimy slope, becoming slick with brine and fungi, the occasional flora, rock, or odd tree branch snagging and shredding away whatever snip of cloth remained to cover their modesty…
Tumbling to a stop several meters below, the woman comes up on top… One of Sharp’s shoes thumps into the muck a few feet away, and her eyes dart to it only for a second before falling back on his… Her raven tresses, matted with sweat and mud, do little to hide the dark glare in her green eyes… They search his, as he lies transfixed beneath her. Her nails dig into his wrists where they pin them to the earth… her lithe, muscular thighs straddle his hips… her pelvis pressed down hard against his loins, grinding him into the mud… Her lip quivers, revealing her ivory teeth seconds before she lunges…
Straight for his lips…
“It was only a ki-i-i-isssss….” Sharp whines, throwing himself against the bedroom door, his head resting against it, his left arm stretched above him, clawing at the wood as his right thumps mechanically in front of his face.
“Oh?” Comes his wife’s irate voice from the other side of the door. “No tongue, then?”
Sharp’s mind races… images of eels in a wet burlap sack, ferrets at play, and a taffy machine flash through his mind…
“No…” He says, squinting his eyes and trying hard to look offended at the very comment. “Tongue?”
Taffy, eels, otters rolling on the surface of a river…
“No!” he says, shaking his head dismissively.
Kittens playing under a blanket…
“Wellll…” he says, weakly…
“OOOHHHHH!!!” she groans from beyond the door. “How would YOU feel if I went around kissing every guy I set eyes upon?"
“Uh, honey?” He begins with an ill-conceived smirk. “The year 2000 called… it has some SWF footage it wanted to show you…”
The door opens, and his wife’s head juts out, her lower lip protruding and her eyes burning…
‘No one expects the Hispanic Inquisition!!’
The door just slams again, and he moans as he lists to the side and begins dragging himself like a gunshot victim paralyzed from the waist down away from the door.
“It’s not like I had SEX with her!!” he yelled as he pulled himself onto the couch. Visions of their taut, oiled bodies thumping against the walls of his office, shattering lamps with errant swings of limbs and knocking books from his shelves with the impact… guttural sounds escaping them as they rut like wild animals, her nails on his face as though she were about to claw out his eyes as her face tenses in a snarl with the onset of wave after wave of primal orgasms. “Never even THOUGHT about it!”
He flips on the television and folds his arms across his chest, throwing his feet up on the coffee table. On Cinemax, some young girl was taking it like a champ in a number of innovative positions.
They used to have sex like that.
Once…
Before the kids…
But not NOW… He could hardly even remember what sex WAS, it had been so long. For a guy with a track record like his, a week would be unheard of… a month absolutely implausible… But it had been nearly EIGHT months at this point.
EIGHT FRIGGIN’ MONTHS!! Do you have any concept of how long that is? Nightshade could finish the Sunday funnies in that amount of time!! That was nearly as long as it’s been since Cean Glace has won a match!!! Good GOD!! In eight months time, Drake Pearson could have returned FOUR TIMES…
It was inconceivable.
And yet, tragically, it was true. Oh, so tragic… This was the longest he’d stayed abstinent since he’d begun having sex… all those years ago…
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