Average American Male (19 page)

We walk into the main courtyard area of the shopping center and the crowd’s source is revealed to be Gwen Stefani. She’s inside the store signing copies of her various CDs, posters, and other crap.

Alyna looks at me and says, “Holy shit. I didn’t know she was gonna be here. Do you mind if I go get something autographed?”

I tell her I will meet her back here and go and buy my CD, which takes me all of five minutes. I head back to meet Alyna in the mob.

The line hasn’t moved, and I find Alyna near the end.

The line we wait in isn’t entirely unpleasant. I’m surrounded by teenage girls dressed in self-empowering belly shirts and thongs that rise up out of their pants. I wonder if the doomseed growing in Casey’s gut will turn into one of these mini-bitches in fourteen years. There are a few other guys in the crowd, but I think they’re fags. Alyna keeps telling me how sorry she is and how much she thinks this sucks, but I know she’s enjoying it just as much as the teenage girls are. This should bother me more than it does.

The two girls directly behind us in the generally disorganized crowd that’s supposed to be a line we’re standing in have the following conversation:

One girl says, “I can’t believe we’re going to meet her.”

The other one says, “I know. It’s so awesome.”

The other one says, “Seriously, she’s like the raddest girl ever.”

The other one says, “I know. I have like two posters of her.”

The other one says, “Which ones?”

The other one says, “The one where she’s punching all tough like and the one where she’s dressed up in a pretty dress all girly.”

The other one says, “I have the one where she’s punching hanging over my bed.”

The other one says, “Me, too.”

I grab Alyna’s tit over her shirt and squeeze it, which is a behavior I’ve gotten her used to. She turns into the squeeze, hiding it between our bodies, but not discontinuing it. But then she grabs my wrist and lowers my hand and says, “There are little kids here. Wait till we get back to your place.” It’s the first rejection of this type she’s ever given me. I dismiss it based on the legitimacy of her argument.

I end up being forced to listen to another conversation, this one slightly more interesting than the first, between two girls who I roughly estimate to be about fifteen.

One bitch says, “Paul wants me to suck his you-know-what. Have you sucked Kenny’s?”

The other bitch says, “I did it once.”

The other bitch says, “What was it like?”

The other bitch says, “Kind of weird. It was totally like shoving a Blow Pop down your throat.”

The other bitch says, “Did he, you know . . . finish?”

The other bitch says, “No. I had to do it with my hand.”

The other bitch says, “Why didn’t he?”

The other bitch says, “He said I was doing it wrong. But he hasn’t even tried to go down on me, so I couldn’t care less.”

The other bitch says, “I don’t know if I want Paul to be down in that area.”

The other bitch says, “Does he ever use his hand on you?”

The other bitch says, “Yeah, sometimes.”

The other bitch says, “And do you like it?”

The other bitch says, “Yeah.”

The other bitch says, “Then think of how good a tongue would feel.”

The other bitch says, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Maybe I should make some kind of deal with him. I’ll do him if he does me.”

The other bitch says, “You totally should. I think I’m going to do that to Kenny next time he wants me to suck his thing.”

The other bitch says, “I can’t believe we’re about to see Gwen.”

The other bitch says, “I know, it’s so cool.”

The other bitch says, “Do you think Gwen sucks Gavin’s you-know-what?”

The other bitch says, “I bet she doesn’t have to.”

The other bitch says, “She’s so awesome.”

That’s when I tune out and notice that even though we’re still far from being next in line, Gwen Stefani is in my line of sight. She is hot as fuck. Her hard little tits are pushing out against a wife beater that has the word rockstar printed on it in rhinestones.

I imagine what she’s like in the sack. My gut tells me that away from her public image, in the confines of whatever room she’s being fucked in, she’s completely submissive. No matter how much girl power she has, I imagine Gavin Rossdale’s dick has more power. I wonder what the two girls behind us in line would think of her if they could see her with a load of Rossdale’s cum sprayed all over her face.

Over the course of the next twenty minutes we make our way to the head of the line. Once there, Alyna hands her a poster she bought inside and we have the following conversation with Gwen Stefani: Gwen Stefani says, “Hi there, who should I make this out to?”

Alyna says, “Alyna.”

Gwen Stefani says, “How do you spell that?”

Alyna says, “A-L-Y-N-A.”

Gwen Stefani says, “Cool name.”

Alyna says, “Thanks.”

Gwen Stefani signs the poster and hands it back to Alyna, then says, “There you go. Rock on.”

For some reason I say, “Thanks,” and we head back out into the mob.

When we get back to Alyna’s apartment, she puts the poster up on her bedroom wall and fucks me like a crazed animal. I don’t know if it was getting Gwen Stefani’s autograph or the fact that I offered no concrete objection to waiting around to get it that got Alyna so amped up, but I don’t question it.

As I look over at Gwen Stefani kicking at nothing in particular to display her unique style and empowerment, I pull out and blow a load all over Alyna’s tits.

Two-Month Anniversary

It’s been exactly two months since Alyna and I have officially referred to ourselves as boyfriend and girlfriend and in celebration we’re eating at a Tex-Mex place on the coast called Marix that Alyna said was one of her favorites. I’m eating a burrito, trying not to think about my baby in Casey’s stomach that Alyna still doesn’t know about.

She says, “Does it seem like we’ve been dating for two months?”

I don’t know what a good answer to this question is. I say, “No.”

“I know.”

I guess that was what she wanted to hear.

“So what do you think of the food here?”

“It’s good.”

“I’m glad you like it. I love this place.”

She picks up her margarita, extends it out toward me, looks in my eyes, and says, “Let’s do a toast.”

I pick up my beer and clink her glass as she says, “Happy two-month anniversary.”

“Happy two-month anniversary.”

As what is potentially the culmination of importance in our two-month relationship is happening, Cameron Diaz walks right past our table, luring my gaze away from Alyna’s eyes and making it refocus on her own unimaginably perfect body.

I stare at her for at least five or ten seconds, remembering every time I’ve seen her in a bikini or her underwear in a movie before realizing that I’m in the middle of my own anniversary toast. I try to turn back to Alyna as nonchalantly as I possibly can in case there is some chance to explain away my lightning-quick loss of interest in our special moment and I see that Alyna herself is staring at Cameron Diaz.

Alyna says, “God, she is so fucking hot.”

Casey would have been in tears by now, questioning me about what our relationship means to me, etc.

Alyna says, “I think if I ever had sex with a woman it might be Cameron Diaz.”

It takes every ounce of self-control I have not to go over to Diaz’s table and ask her if she wants to have a threesome with Alyna and me.

The odds obviously aren’t good that she’d say yes, but lightning has to strike somewhere. I remain seated, reasoning that although I might be able to gawk at Cameron Diaz’s ass on my two-month anniversary without incurring any ill feelings, I probably wouldn’t be able to solicit a two-girl orgy with my girlfriend and myself.

As we finish our dinner, we both can’t help taking a few more glances at Diaz, who’s here with a group of friends, some of whom are guys. I try to imagine being in Cameron Diaz’s circle of friends but can’t because I can’t get past the thought of her licking my balls while Alyna eats her out as I fuck Alyna doggie style.

About halfway through our dinner, I get up to take a piss and purposely walk too close to Diaz. She smells good.

Outside the pisser there’s a guy selling flowers. I’m not worried about the possibility of not getting fucked tonight, but I decide to buy Alyna some flowers anyway, knowing it will make her happy. When I get back to the table and give them to her, I say, “Happy Anniversary.”

Alyna smiles a big smile and says, “Look at you. You’re the perfect little boyfriend.” Then she leans across the table and gives me a kiss.

As she kisses me I’m looking with one eye semi-open at Diaz, who I’m surprised to see is looking right back at our table, smiling a kind of “oh-isn’t-that-cute” kind of smile. Again, I have to swallow down the impulse to invite her into a threesome.

We finish eating and I take one last look at Cameron Diaz, trying to imagine what her pussy looks like before paying the bill and going back to my apartment.

When we get inside, Alyna thanks me for the flowers and hugs me.

She says, “Happy anniversary,” and then kisses me and says, “Take me to the bedroom so we can have two-month-anniversary sex.” I comply.

Once in the bedroom she sucks my cock a little and I eat her out some. We fuck for a few minutes and then she says, “Wait.” I’m kind of scared to hear what’s coming next, but when she says, “Let’s do something different for our anniversary, something neither of us have ever done with anyone else,” I’m interested.

She rolls over onto all fours and says, “Have you ever fucked one of your other girlfriends in the ass before?”

Of course I have, but none of them ever had an ass as rock hard and perfect as Alyna’s.

I say, “No.”

She says, “Neither have I, let’s do it.”

I can’t believe I say, “You sure?”

But she erases my mistake with, “Yeah, I want to see what it’s like.

Do you think we need to lube up first?”

“Maybe.”

We do the sixty-nine for a few minutes with me licking her asshole, which has the melon smell that I’ve now become familiar with. She seems to be genuinely getting off on it. This leads me to believe she may actually enjoy getting fucked in the ass, which would be something I’ve never experienced with another girlfriend.

After her asshole and my cock are sufficiently dripping with each other’s saliva, she rolls back over onto all fours and says, “Okay, go slow at first.”

As I put my cock in her asshole, she pushes her ass back toward me, forcing my dick in a few inches. The little moan she lets out isn’t specific enough to let me know if she likes my dick in her ass or if it’s hurting her. She pushes back again until I’m almost balls-deep in her asshole. This time the moan is accompanied by her saying, “Oh my god. That feels so good,” letting me know she likes it.

I fuck her in the ass and reach around underneath her to play with her clit. Her ass is so tight I can barely move without cumming.

Despite my efforts to remain totally still so as not to make myself blow an early load, Alyna keeps moving her ass back and forth, forcing my cock in and out of her.

I think about dogs getting hit by cars, my grandma, and the time I cut my knee open with the tin lid of a can of corn so deep I could see the bone. This helps me last until Alyna cums, the sound of which overcomes any repulsive or familial imagery I might be able to conjure, and I blow a massive load in her ass. As I pull out I can feel her asshole contracting around my cock. I wonder if I can get another instantaneous hard-on and start ass-fucking her again immediately. On second thought, the soreness that might result from a double inaugural ass-fucking might discourage her from ever doing it again. I pull out humbly.

As we lie in my bed she says, “Wow. That was really, really good.”

“So you liked it.”

“Yeah. I always thought I might, but Jesus Christ, that was almost better than normal sex. Do you like it?”

“Yeah.”

“So you wouldn’t care if we did that from time to time.”

“Nope.”

We lie there for a few minutes and then she says, “Hey, I want to tell you something and I don’t want it to freak you out.”

She’s pregnant too, she has AIDS, she used to be a man, I have no idea what’s coming as I say, “Okay . . .”

“I don’t know if there’s an easy way to say this so I guess I’ll just say it. . . .

She’s been fucking someone else. She’s still fucking Duane. She’s getting back together with Duane and they’re getting married. Duane’s in the closet with a video camera and a gun.

She says, “I’m in love with you . . . I love you.”

I give in to my trained reaction and hug her, then say, “I love you, too,” and I think I actually might.

“You don’t have to say it back just because I did.”

“I’m not just saying it back.”

“You really love me?”

“Yeah,” and I think I really do.

She kisses me all over the face and rolls on top of me. I wonder if my semen is going to drip out of her ass and onto me as she says, “I know this is going to sound stupid, and I don’t really believe in fate or destiny or any of that stupid shit, but I kind of feel like we’re meant to be together.”

I don’t believe in any of that shit either. Casey did. This is the first moment in our relationship that I feel slightly uneasy about how good she makes me feel. I just smile back. She hugs and kisses me again, then says, “So we’re in love. Does being in love make you horny?”

She kind of grinds her cunt on my dick and it starts hardening up.

“Do you want to fuck me in the ass again?”

“If you want to.”

She sits up a little and reaches back to grab my dick. Just before she inserts my cock into her ass for the second time in twenty minutes, she says, “Happy anniversary, I love you,” and I wish Casey would have been into ass fucking on the night I impregnated her.

Another Chance Encounter

Alyna and I are in the Beverly Center because she thinks the Bloussant is working and wants to see if a C-cup swimsuit will fit her. We’re holding hands as we walk into a store called Everything But Water and I’m ready to spend up to thirty minutes staring at Alyna’s tits as she tries on different bathing suits, but instead I get one mind-shattering second of staring Casey right in the eye as she looks up from a swimsuit rack to see Alyna and me walking toward her.