Just so you know, what you saw…Alton is a grower—not a show-er.

Here’s the deal. We go in, you stand there like the asshole you are, and I explain you aren’t gay lovers with the pharmacist. Sound good?” Dove clicked her blinker on and checked her side mirror.

“All I heard was blah, blah, holding your dick later, blah, blah.” Duke rolled down his window and stuck his face into the night.

That’s sweet. Nice of you.” Johnson put his hands in his pockets. Dove couldn’t help but wonder if he was massaging a sore bag of testicles. Dove looked around, and Johnson shuffled his feet. It seemed neither knew what to say, but she hoped neither wanted to part ways either.

Johnson’s default was always medical.

“How’s your infection?”

Die. Die. Kill me.

“It’s… cleared up… nicely.” Dove twisted her hand into her hair.

Dove’s heart broke. He’d been so hopeful until cock rings and butt fucking ruined his career.

He stopped, finally, and smiled. “Honestly? With this thing I think I could get my jerk-off muscles so well-developed that I could rub out a spooge with one pump! If that’s not worth $19.95, I don’t know what is.

I got out of the truck, half-hoping she would be too sleepy to walk. I wanted to carry her. She brought out the caveman in me.