home authors guest shorts graphical shorts
His presence in my house was positively thrombotic. With money hemorrhaging in every direction, I was out of answers. Out by the pool, I could see two figures standing close to one another. An approach of some sort, but as my focus changed, their movements became blurred - two shapes coalescing. A few days later, I realized one of the bodies belonged to my heartless wife. She might drown for that. Pornography of any sort provided little stimulus for my over-active imagination. And yet the determined movements of my best friend's pool cue, back and forth through the fleshy circle created by thumb and forefinger, were enough to send me running for the nearest cold shower. As I opened the door to the guest bathroom, I barely caught sight of my wife's left calf as she closed the translucent shower door behind her. She must know I'm here. I approached, slowly, as she turned the knob, releasing torrents of water. I had failed to convince her that we might save some dough with a more restrained fixture. Upon opening the door, she turned to face me, as though she were predicting my moves before I had time to think them through. I grabbed her by the shoulder and pushed her aside. Despite being fully clothed, I briefly enjoyed the water's warmth, despite the fact that it kicked my weak bladder into gear. I was peeing my pants in no time, to which she smirked. I'm not sure how she knew. Perhaps it was the look of ecstasy on my face. I quickly exacted my revenge by shifting the water temperature from hot to ice cold. It calmed my nerves and got her to scream, but I'll be damned if the dramatic change didn't create a sort of bowel catharsis, for chrissake. She jumped into my arms (for warmth?), and that's where we got it on. The first time in eight weeks. Don't tell me I'm not a romantic.
Date Written: June 21, 2005
Average Vote: 3.625