Average American Male (6 page)

I get up and start kissing her neck as I unzip her pants.

“Hang on.”

“What?”

“I want to talk about something first.”

“I thought you said you were horny.”

“I was.”

“But not now?”

“I just got off the phone with my mom.”

“So?”

“She was asking me if we were ever going to get married.”

“So?”

“So are we?”

I wish I would have left work ten minutes earlier so I wouldn’t have been there when Casey called, or that I had just jerked off in the first-floor bathroom so the lure of fucking her wouldn’t have been so strong. I wish a pot of scalding water was on the stove so I could dunk my head in it.

I can’t talk. I just stand there.

She says, “Well . . . have you ever even thought about it?”

I can’t think. I just open my mouth. “No.”

“You’ve never even thought about us getting married?”

“No.”

“We’ve been dating for like over a year.”

“Right.”

“And you haven’t ever even given it the slightest thought? Like what I’d look like in a wedding dress?”

For the first time in my life, I imagine Casey in a wedding dress.

She actually probably would look good from the front.

“No. Have you?”

“Of course. I love you.”

My involuntary reactions come back to me. “I love you, too” crawls out of my mouth.

“Then why wouldn’t you think about us getting married?”

“Why are you bringing this up now? What did your mom say to you?”

“She wanted to know if we were thinking about getting married yet or like thinking about having kids.”

“Kids?” Is this a fucking joke?

“She had me when she was twenty.”

“Kids?” It’s not a fucking joke.

“My sister just had a baby and my mom wants me to give her grandchildren, too. I don’t think that’s so bad.”

Her cats are sitting on the coffee table watching us argue. I wish they were watching us fuck.

I have to get out of this. I say, “Do you want to go get a sandwich?”

“What?”

“I didn’t eat before I came over here. Do you want to go get a sandwich?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I want to get a sandwich.”

“Are you like trying to change the subject or something?”

“No, I just, I’m just hungry.”

She gets really pissed. She stomps off into her bedroom and slams the door shut. Her cats are still sitting on the coffee table just staring at me.

I’m afraid to knock on her door because I know the marriage conversation will have to be resolved. So I sit back down on the couch and finish watching Family Ties. I wonder how many eighteen-year-old hardbodies Michael J. Fox fucked in his prime—before Parkinson’s, before marriage.

I watch TV for the next few minutes, during which I formulate my apology and the quickest route of conversation that will lead me to fucking. I watch a little bit of a soft-core porno on Cinemax called A Rock and a Hard Place. I contemplate jerking off in Casey’s living room and then going home, but I ultimately decide against it. It turns out to be a good decision, as Casey comes out of her room ready to start up the conversation again.

She says, “So are you ever going to apologize?”

I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong. I say, “Of course. I just thought you needed some time to yourself. I didn’t want to interrupt you before you were ready to fully talk about this whole thing.”

“Well, now I’m ready.”

I take a deep breath and try to look like I care. I say, “What you said earlier just caught me by surprise. I came over here thinking about one thing and then your mom called and I ended up getting another.

You know how us guys think.”

“Yeah, like rocks.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“So then what do you think about the whole us getting married thing?”

This question inspires me to create the following masterwork: “Of course I’ve thought about us getting married. It’s not like I don’t see us together in the future. I guess what I meant was that I never even ques-tioned whether or not we’d be married so I never really gave it much thought. It’s just something that I kind of take as a given.”

That one got her. She smiles and says, “So you think we’ll get married?”

“Someday . . . in the future.”

She sits down next to me and puts her arms around my neck. She says, “I knew you’d thought about it. You must have just been confused. Like you said.”

“Right.”

“And now that you’ve had some time to clear your thoughts, you realize that we should get married.”

“Sure . . . at some point.”

She squeezes me and kisses my cheek. She says, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She pulls away a little bit and looks me in the eyes. She says, “So then we’re basically engaged, right?”

“Uhh . . .” The only sound I can hear is the blood pounding against the back of my eyes. I’m dazed. She must take my slack-jawed stupor to mean yes because she hugs me tight and says, “I love the feeling of being engaged.”

Dazed becomes paralyzed. I wish a plane would crash into Casey’s living room.

She pulls back again and stares at me, this time with a look in her eye that I haven’t seen since we first started dating, and she says, “You know what we should do to celebrate our engagement?”

I want to get the fuck out of her house and celebrate by wrapping my car around a telephone pole.

She says, “We should make love.”

She insists on fucking missionary style so we can look into each other’s eyes. She keeps holding my face and saying she loves me as I’m trying to fuck her hard enough to erase the memory of this entire night. She’s nowhere close to cumming and I don’t care because she keeps trying to hug me as we’re fucking and she won’t stop telling me how much she loves me.

I’m about to blow my load so I pull out and shoot it all over her stomach and tits, knowing that I’ll get at least a little break from her “I love you” barrage while she goes to the bathroom to clean up.

I’m almost asleep when she comes back from toweling down. She snuggles up beside me and forces me into the spoon position.

Again she says, “I love you,” and I almost lose it. I almost get up, get dressed, and walk out, but I’m tired. Maybe I can just ignore this whole night. Maybe we’ll never talk about getting married again.

I’m almost asleep when she says, “You’re still taking me to the airport tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I can’t wait to tell my parents I’m engaged.”

First Date

I drop Casey off at the airport at 5:30 p.m. I have to pick up Alyna for our date at 8:30. Casey kisses me on the cheek and says, “See you in a few days, fiancé.”

“Right.”

As I drive back to my apartment I hope her plane goes down or gets hijacked before she has a chance to tell her parents that we’re engaged.

Back at home I prepare for my date by jerking off while watching a rerun of 90210. I brush my teeth twice, take a dump, and then jerk off one more time in the shower just to make sure. I put on some clothes that I think are nice but not too nice, and wonder if Alyna will be wearing any underwear tonight. I wonder if she wears thong underwear. I imagine her ass in thong underwear. I jerk off again, then take a half shower in which I only scrub my dick and balls.

Alyna lives about three minutes away from my apartment in a university-owned off-campus apartment complex. I park my car and ring her apartment number on the call box of her building.

A girl says, “Hello.”

“Hi, I’m here to pick Alyna up.”

“She’s still getting ready, but I’ll buzz you in.”

When I get to Alyna’s door, I meet her roommate, Simone.

Simone is a hippie-type bitch who doesn’t shave her armpits or wear shoes. Despite the fact that she’s kind of fat, I wonder if there’s any chance of getting both her and Alyna drunk and coaxing them into a threesome. I wonder if she would lick my balls while I fucked Alyna.

Simone says, “So what’s your deal?”

“How’s that?”

“What’s your deal, man? What’re you up to?”

“I’m just here to take Alyna out.”

“Yeah, I know.”

I sit down on their couch.

She says, “So where are you from?”

“Originally?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m from Colorado. How about you?”

“Northern California. Santa Cruz.”

“And you go to UCLA with Alyna?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you known her long?”

“A year. You?”

“We actually just kind of met a week or so ago.”

I’m suddenly repulsed at myself for trying to get this hippie bitch to like me, but the thought of her eating Alyna’s pussy while I fuck her is enough for me to remain cordial.

She says, “Yeah, well, everybody meets everybody at one point in their relationship, you know, man?”

“Right.”

Alyna comes out of some back room—maybe a bathroom, maybe a bedroom. She says, “Sorry. You ready to go?”

“Yeah. Nice to meet you, Simone.”

I put my hand out to shake hers and she hugs me. She has mild body odor, but as her tits press against me I learn that they’re full and kind of sloppy, which, surprisingly, doesn’t repulse me.

Simone says, “You, too.”

As we’re walking out the door and I’m looking for a panty line on Alyna’s ass in a pair of tight slack-type pants, she says, “Bye, Simone.

Don’t wait up.” I can’t see a panty line.

The ride to the restaurant is uneventful. She looks through the CDs I have in my car and we talk about our musical interests. As we pull into the restaurant parking lot she semi-leans over me to put a CD back in my sun visor CD carrying case and brushes me with her tit. It’s a little smaller than I originally thought, but a rock-hard B cup nonetheless. I think about her straddling me as I lick and bite at her tits.

The restaurant is a French place called Le Petit Chateau in North Hollywood.

When we get inside, we start drinking wine and the conversation comes a little easier. We cover the basics—ages, interests, hometowns, and we skirt around the issue of previous relationships. I don’t mention Casey.

A couple comes in and sits a few tables away from us. Alyna and I both notice them. The girl has a fucking amazing body, but her facial features are disproportionate in a way that makes me wonder if she has some kind of mild medical deformity.

She says, “Do you think they’re on a first date, too?”

“I don’t know.”

“I bet they are.”

“How can you tell?”

“It’s all in the way the guy is treating her.”

“And how’s he treating her?”

“The same way you’re treating me. He’s trying to impress her. He’s pulling her chair out, he’s being really nice, and he’s acting like he’s really interested in whatever it is she’s saying. He even unfolded the napkin and put it in his lap, just like you did when we sat down.”

“What does the napkin have to do with it?”

“I bet you never do that when you just go out to eat with your guy friends or with somebody you’re not trying to impress.”

I think about the last several times I’ve gone out to eat with Casey.

Alyna’s right. She becomes immediately more attractive to me based on the fact that she seems smarter than Casey even though she’s younger.

I say, “Maybe it is their first date.”

She says, “Who do you think is having a better first date, us or them?”

“Definitely us.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because they’re not looking at us wondering if it’s our first date.”

She smiles.

The guy from the couple gets up from the table and excuses himself.

Alyna says, “Where do you think he’s going?”

“To the bathroom.”

“What if he’s going to call one of his friends to tell him how horrible the date is going and how he needs the friend to call him in the next ten minutes with some urgent emergency so he can get out of the date?”

“Do you have something like that planned to get out of this date?”

She laughs. “I might.”

We get our food and start eating. She eats like a girl—taking small bites and covering her mouth with her hand. But the pasta she ordered makes her lips wet and all I can think about is her sucking my cock. I make it my goal to shoot a load down her throat before the night’s over.

As we eat and talk some more we notice that the guy who left his first date earlier still hasn’t come back. The hot-bodied bitch is sitting at the table by herself, getting visibly worried.

Alyna says, “I bet he snuck out the window or something. I feel so bad for that poor girl.”

If the guy did sneak out the window, I admire him.

The front door opens and a guy in full knight armor walks in. Everybody in the place stops eating and watches the following first-date nightmare unfold.

The knight walks over to the table where the hot-bodied bitch is sitting alone and gets down on one knee. He flips up his visor and it’s the guy who went to the bathroom twenty minutes ago. He proposes.

She accepts. The whole place goes crazy. As Alyna stares in silence at the unfolding events, I can’t tell if she’s disgusted or on the verge of tears because this moment is so magical.

I want to know what’s running through Alyna’s head. It’s probably something attaching far more meaning to this event than it deserves, especially since it happened on our first date. Casey would have thought the whole thing was a sign from God that we should get married.

To diffuse the situation I try to make a joke. “I guess they’re having the better first date now.”

She says, “That is so fucking stupid.”

I can’t tell if she’s talking about the knight or about my joke.

She says, “Does that guy think he’s being romantic?”

She’s talking about the knight.

“It worked.”

“I just think marriage is so stupid. Seriously, what we just saw basically defines all marriages—some guy makes an ass out of himself and the girl is too overwhelmed by it to think straight enough to say no.”

I’m impressed. I say, “So you don’t want to get married?”

“Look, I know this is kind of a big subject for a first date and everything, but no, I don’t want to. I don’t want to have kids either. What about you?”