The Bedbug

Your girlfriend Michelle is perched on a stool inside a downtown coffee shop, facing the floor to ceiling front window. Sitting with her is some guy you don’t know. He is wearing a black blazer over a black T shirt, every inch the hip young urban professional.

Michelle is outfitted like a bohemian college slut, as usual. Her perfect breasts threaten to spill out of her stretchy, low cut top. She has cut off the material to leave her stomach bare. She didn’t do a very neat job, but no man alive would mind.

Under the table, her skirt is so short, you can see right up between her legs from your sidewalk vantage point. She isn’t wearing panties. She never does. Again and again, she casually parts her knees and brings them together, like a tantalizing aerobics exercise. Her thick lipped pussy winks in and out of sight in the shadowed space between her thighs.

You are not the only guy outside the coffee shop who is staring at her. A young guy across the street is taking a damned long time unlocking his bike from a “No Parking” sign. His eyes are locked on your girlfriend’s crotch.

You picture Michelle tugging down his black spandex bicycle shorts. His big cock springs up in her face. She grabs his dick and puts her puffy lips around its swollen head. Then she lies back and spreads her legs.

You imagine the bicyclist’s thick veiny cock fucking in and out of Michelle’s juicy cunt. She squeezes his muscular ass with both hands and holds on tight when he comes, trembling and kicking with her own simultaneous climax.

Another interested onlooker is a black cabbie waiting for a fare across the street. You see him on his knees behind Michelle, who is naked on all fours. The cabbie is holding Michelle’s butt cheeks so far apart that her asshole is stretched into a flattened oval. His blacksnake size dick slams in and out of her pretty pink twat.

The sweating black man pushes his thumb up her shithole, working it in and out. Michelle really loses control then. Her pussy floods her African American lover’s cock with girl cream when she comes.

Your own cock gets hard whenever you think about other men fucking your darling Michelle. She is such a slut, such a dirty little bed hopping slut. You know that you should resent her for cheating on you so often, and so flagrantly. So why does her promiscuity excite you so much?

The first time Michelle came back with you to your off campus apartment, you felt like the luckiest guy at your college. She did everything that afternoon: sucked your cock, licked your asshole, let you put your dick between her tits. She was incredible.

You called her your little bedbug. It was only later that you realized she was not the kind of bug who was content to stay in just one bed.

From the way she is exchanging glances with that prick in the coffee shop, you know what will happen next. She wants him to fuck her.

You remember catching her cheating only a week after the two of you hooked up. You showed up unannounced one day at her dorm. You had been about to knock on her door when you heard a long, low groan from the other side.

“Oh, yesss,” came Michelle’s voice, full of throaty lust. “It’s all the way up my ass now. Your whole, big cock is in my ass.”

You froze in shock, your arm raised, your knuckles an inch from the door. You heard the springs of Michelle’s bed creak, and the slapping of skin against skin. A man said, “Goddamn, your ass is tight. So fucking tight.”

The door may as well have been transparent. You could picture your unknown rival sliding his hard dick in and out of Michelle’s stretched wide asshole. You could see Michelle’s big tits swinging beneath her body, grazing the rumpled sheets, as she rocked back and forth. You could see her reaching between her legs to rub her sensitive clit while being butt fucked, not giving a damn about anything except the pleasure of the moment.

You remember realizing your own cock had become stiff. Your hand lingered on your erection, stroking it, as you listened to Michelle getting buggered. Part of you wanted to break into her room in a jealous rage. That would have been the manly thing to do, the self respecting thing. Instead, you put your ear closer to her door.

“Fuck my ass! Fuck it! Fuck it hard!” Michelle commanded. Then she groaned with what sounded like a soul shaking climax.

The man in there with her said, “Fuck! Fuck!” You heard the bedsprings creaking faster. He must really have been jackrabbiting her asshole then. He groaned with release.

You hurried into a stairwell, unzipped and furiously jerked your cock. Within seconds, your semen was running down the concrete block wall like rivulets of Elmer’s glue.

You never confronted Michelle about her indiscretion. But from that time on, you kept imagining her with other men. You started following her, hoping to catch her in the act again. That was how you managed to see her getting fucked in a car, with her bare feet pressed against the glass. And in the woods beside a local lake, where she rode a lover cowgirl style. You followed her to a motel and listened from an alcove beside the ice machine. You watched her from your car outside a frat house, where you caught glimpses through a window of Michelle taking on two guys at once.

And now here is this mystery man in black at the coffee shop. He says something to her. Michelle mouths the word, “Okay,” which makes him look pleased with himself. She apparently has agreed to go home with him.

When they get up, she turns toward him as if an idea suddenly has occurred to her. With a mischievous grin, she pulls something from her purse and dangles it in his face. Your eyes open wide. It is a key ring attached to a red rubber ladybug. You gave it to her last week, with a key to your apartment attached. “For my cute little bedbug,” you had told her. “Come over anytime.”

Michelle must intend to take this guy to your apartment and let him fuck her in your bed.

You try to figure out what is going on in her head. Does she know that you have been following her? Does she know that you like watching her fuck? Has she spotted you spying on her today, and is this her way of giving you a treat?

Or is this the ultimate insult? Does she take you so much for granted that she thinks she can rub your nose in the wet spots they will leave on your sheets? Will the two of them be laughing at you while they fuck and suck each other in your own bedroom?

You don’t know. You don’t care. You run for your car and race home ahead of them. You hide in your bedroom closet. It has folding doors, which you leave very slightly ajar. Then you gather hangers of clothes in front of you, slouch against the back wall and wait.

You hear a key in the front door lock. Michelle and her latest conquest step into the bedroom. Their hands are all over each other. He reaches under her skirt to finger her pussy while she pulls her ragged top over her head. Her nipples are jutting out.

She sits on the edge of your bed to undo his belt and the front of his pants. She tugs his pants and his white jockey shorts to his knees. His dick stands straight out from his body.

Michelle puts her mouth over his swollen pink cockhead. You gently tug on yourself as she bobs up and down, licking and sucking. She is so hot, so sexy, so beautiful. This slutty little bedbug definitely has gotten under your skin.

Michelle lies back and spreads her legs. “Eat my pussy,” she says. “If you make me come, I’ll let you fuck me.”

The man puts his mouth on Michelle’s meaty cunt. She runs her fingers through his hair as he licks her. “That’s the way, baby,” she says. “Go deep. Put your tongue all the way up my pussy.” He stays down there a good, long time, until Michelle starts making little gasps of pleasure. Then she cries out as she climaxes.

Her lover gets in position between her legs to ram his dick home. You can see his hard on sliding in and out of Michelle’s cunt, getting wet with her milky juice. Michelle strokes and squeezes his balls, saying, “Go ahead and do it, baby. Don’t hold back. Give it to me.”

Her lover grimaces and pumps harder. You can see his semen squishing out of Michelle’s pussy around his dick and running down her inner thighs. You silently whimper through your own climax, spurting your come onto the hanging clothes that hide you from view.

Does Michelle know that you were watching her fuck? Is she the perfect lover for you, one who truly understands your desire to see her have sex with other men?

She gets out of bed and uses one of your best shirts to wipe her seeping crotch. “Let’s get out of here,” she tells the man who just fucked her. “This was kinky, but I want to be long gone before the little prick who lives here gets home.”

You keep quiet as they get dressed and leave. Michelle is so sexy and slutty and nasty that you know you will be able to forgive her for that cruel remark.

But somehow, you can’t help feeling just a little bit bugged.

The Model

It was six months since Frank had gotten film work, so he had been forced to seek other employment. Of course, the other work he had sought was work that would exploit his body.

He stood nude in the center of the classroom, his left foot on a small stool, leaning over slightly with his left elbow balanced on his muscular left thigh. His right arm was held in a slight pose, the fist clenched. The art students seated around him worked intensely. Frank had done this kind of work before. Posing for community college art classes brought in quick, easy money for a few hours’ work.

He had been here for an hour and a half, and everything was going well until the inevitable happened. He got a hard on. As soon as he felt his penis stir, he thought of something to try to diminish its growth. Nothing worked. It swelled to its full eight inch length.

He took a deep breath. This wasn’t the first time he had gotten a woody in front of strangers. For adult films it was a job requirement. He was used to not only being nude in front of people everyday, but to getting an erection in front of them. He was also used to putting his erection to good use.

Not so here.

He shifted slightly, to try to hide it, but it didn’t work. He caught more than a few grins of mirth from the students, and he couldn’t help but smile.

The timer went off, signifying that class was over. Frank relaxed, and the students began packing up their equipment. Amid the sound of rustling papers and student chatter, Frank stood up and stepped over to where he had left his clothes. The instructor who had hired him approached as he was pulling his trousers up and handed him an envelope.

“Many thanks, Frank,” Ken Flanders said. “You available next week?”

“Same day, same time?”

“You’ve got it.”

“I’ll be here.”

Five minutes later Frank was heading to his car, paycheck in his back pocket. He was thinking how the rest of his week would go when a female voice beside him said, “Interesting class tonight, don’t you think?”

Frank turned. A brunette woman had joined him, and he stopped, smiling at her. She was a few inches shorter than he, with creamy white skin, black hair and almond shaped eyes. She had a sharp nose, full lips and high cheekbones. Exotic features. She was dressed in a pair of tight denim blue jeans, with a green blouse and a white sweater. She had a nice body, and Frank noticed the swell of her breasts beneath the clothing. At least a D cup, he thought.

“I suppose it was.”

The woman smiled and held out her hand. “I’m Natalie Tahara Reynolds. I’m in Flanders’s class.”

“Ah. So I take it you noticed my involuntary bodily reaction back there, hmm?”

Natalie laughed. “I guess you can say that. Who wouldn’t?”

Frank laughed with her. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. I couldn’t help it.”

“It’s okay,” Natalie said, her green eyes twinkling. “Actually, I kind of liked it. It gave me the idea of seeking you out after class.”

“Oh yeah?” Frank raised his eyebrows in interest. “What do you have in mind?”

“Are you busy now?” Natalie asked him coyly.

Frank shrugged. “Actually, I was just going to go home and call it a night. Why?”

“Would you like some company?”

“Sure.” Frank offered Natalie his arm, and she took it.

They wandered to his car together and chatted, getting further acquainted. She was taking art classes during the evenings while her husband, Jeffrey, was at work. As she explained to him on the drive to his condominium, Jeffrey was a workaholic.

“He spends more time in the office than he does at home,” she said. “It was his idea that I take night classes to get more into my art. So that’s what I’m doing here.”

“How long have you been drawing?” Frank asked.

“Ten years,” she said.

Once there were at his condominium, Frank asked to see Natalie’s sketch from tonight. Blushing, she opened her sketchbook. He looked at the drawing and laughed.

“Not bad. This looks just like me.”

His caricature was rendered exquisitely in chalk. Everything was perfectly textured and shaded, down to his tremendous erection, which was the central subject of Natalie’s sketch.

She grinned. “I actually drew that in before you even— you know— ”

“Before I got it,” Frank said, grinning. “You obviously had things on your mind besides tonight’s lesson.”

“I guess I did,” Natalie said, stepping up to him and kissing him.

Her lips were soft and moist. He kissed her back passionately, his arms caressing her waist, holding her close to him. Their tongues darted together lightly, playfully.

When the kiss broke, she ground her hips against his crotch. “Didn’t take long to get a repeat performance out of you. Why don’t we repair to the bedroom for a test drive?”

“Fine by me,” he said, letting her lead him to his bedroom.

Once there they kissed again, pausing every so often to remove one another’s clothing. When they were fully nude, Frank lowered Natalie to his king size bed and ran his tongue down her belly, trailing kisses down to her soft, sweet pubic patch. She moaned and opened her legs.

“Oh, yes,” she purred.

His tongue darted in, tasting her delicacies. He nibbled at her labia, sending waves of pleasure through her as her body rocked and bucked on the bed. Her juices flowed steadily, and he lapped them up greedily. His finger rubbed her clitoris as his tongue darted in and out of her pussy, sending her into orgasm.

Natalie grabbed a fistful of Frank’s hair and gently pulled his face away from her pussy. He raised himself up, and she sat up, meeting him in a lip locking kiss. She kissed him greedily, sucking up her own juices. Her hands found his stiff tool, and she pushed him back down on the bed and went for his cock.

He lay back and closed his eyes, his nerves tingling with the sensation of her slurping lips. She sucked him noisily, then licked her way down his shaft and paused to take each testicle in her mouth, sucking gently. He moaned in pleasure. She ran her lips up the full length of his shaft back to the head. She licked it slowly and gazed at it lustfully. Then she opened her mouth and engulfed him again.

Frank moaned and pumped his hips up and down, plunging his cock in and out of her warm mouth as she sucked noisily. Her left hand jerked him off with each stroke. She stopped just shy of an earth shattering orgasm and positioned herself over him, moaning as she impaled herself on his rod. He reveled in her tight wetness as his cock sank in her. Her buttocks rested against his upper thighs. Then she rode him furiously. Grabbing her ass, he met each thrust with one of his own, deeper and deeper inside her.

Natalie leaned into Frank as she continued riding his cock. He cupped her breasts and kissed her nipples as they fell in his face. She leaned back, eyes closed, and screamed as she climaxed. Her body quivered, her pussy muscles clenching around his cock as it was buried even deeper inside her.

Frank put his arms around Natalie’s waist and turned her over gently, trying not to slip out of her. She flipped over on her back eagerly, spreading her legs high and wide. He smiled as he saw that the head of his cock was still inside her, and he sank deep in her once again.

She was moaning again, crying his name out over and over as he pistoned in and out of her. She pulled him closer, and her mouth sought his. He tasted her lips and tongue as he screwed her, his hips bobbing up and down. His cock moved with such frantic passion that in no time he felt the pressure build in his balls. Her pussy tightened around his cock, and then he exploded, unleashing steams of come deep inside her.

When he was spent, they lay there for a minute, catching their breath. Their sweat sheened bodies felt cool in the air conditioned room, and as Frank eased himself out of Natalie, he glimpsed a smile on her face.

“I think I’ve found something to do on nights my husband is working late,” she said.

“I guess you have,” he said.

Natalie’s grin seemed to hold some deep secret. “You’re so good, it was almost like being with a pro.”

Frank grinned back. “Maybe you are with one,” he said.

Natalie’s gaze remained fixed on him. “I have a confession to make.”

“Oh?”

“I knew who you were the minute I saw you in class tonight. And I wanted you the minute I saw you.”

A star struck fan? It wouldn’t be the first one Frank had fucked. What came next was a surprise, though.

“Would you do me a favor?” Natalie asked.

“Sure,” Frank said.

She leaned forward and told him what she really wanted.

Once again, Jeffrey Reynolds was working late at the office. Or at least that’s what he told his wife. But then, what would Natalie care? The past few months she had been away from home most evenings herself.

Kristen’s hungry mouth devoured his swollen penis. She was wearing white lacy panties, white stockings and garter belt, black spike heels and nothing else. Her round, firm tits bounced as she moved up and down over his cock, slurping it like a popsicle. He was reclining on his large leather upholstered executive chair, naked save for a pair of black dress socks, enjoying the sensation of Kristen’s lips and mouth on his cock.

It had been like this for a while, but for the past week it had been sensational. Tuesdays and Thursdays, Kristen came up from quality control to give him some loving attention. Mondays and Wednesdays, Allison from accounting was the lucky lady. He had been intimate with the two women for about three months now, ever since Natalie began spending so many nights out of the house.

He didn’t blame Natalie. In the beginning, he did sometimes have to work nights. But then he had happened into an affair with Joyce, his secretary. (They still got together occasionally.) One thing had led to another, and before he knew it, he was screwing around with Kristen and Allison. Oh well, at least Natalie still thought he was working late.

Jeffrey smiled as he thought about how meek and innocent Natalie could be. When they were first married, she didn’t have much experience in the bedroom, having been with only one other man. Jeffrey introduced her to the pleasures of sex, and she became a skilled lover. But he was the type of man who couldn’t stay tied down to the same woman. It wasn’t that he didn’t love Natalie. It was just that he liked variety, in women as in everything else.

He frowned as Kristen ran her lips up the side of his shaft, thinking about how much Natalie had been away from home lately. At first she had been upset that he was spending so much time at the office. He told her that if she wanted him to get that big promotion, this was the sacrifice they would have to make. They still had most of their weekends. She relented, but he could tell that she didn’t like it.

Too bad, because he was already deep in his relationship with Joyce. Then Natalie started her night painting class, and he thought, Fine, let her devote her time to other things, get involved with her hobbies. As long as she doesn’t screw around behind my back, I don’t care what she does.

Kristen looked up at him, her blue eyes wide and daring. “What’re you thinking about, honey?”

Jeffrey smiled and stroked her blonde hair back from her face. “How much I want to come in that pretty face of yours.”

Her smile grew wide. “I’d like that.” She closed her eyes and worked him over again. He leaned back, the sensations of her blowjob electrified twofold.

Kristen’s mouth was like a warm suction cup, seeming to make his penis grow longer and bigger as she milked him for all he was worth. His body grew light and tingly. Then the pressure built in his balls until he came with a shuddering gasp in Kristen’s mouth. She swallowed the first spurts, then rubbed the head of his cock against her lips while jerking the shaft with her right hand. He moaned as he spent himself.

Kristen smiled up at him, scooping up drops of his come from her face and licking it off her fingers. “Mmm,” she said, “you taste so good, honey.”

Jeffrey glance at his desk clock. It was almost eight thirty. He stood up. “I gotta get going, babe.”

Kristen’s smile dimmed slightly. “Can I still see you Thursday?”

“Of course, honey,” he said, reaching for his underwear. “Of course. I’m sorry, babe, it’s just that it’s late, and I gotta go.”

She smiled. “Okay. Maybe Thursday we can— ”

“Fuck on the boardroom table?” he said, knowing how much Kristen loved doing that. “Of course.”

“Great!” She jumped up and clapped her hands together in glee.

Afterward, Jeffrey walked Kristen out to the parking lot. Watching her tight little ass sashay in her tight miniskirt got him horny again, but he knew that he couldn’t act on it this late at night. Natalie was due home from tonight’s class at ten. He wondered if she would want to have sex when she came home. Probably not. She seemed to have lost her appetite for sex lately.

A sudden thought crept into his head. That’s because she’s getting it somewhere else.

“See you Thursday, then?” Kristen said as they approached her car. That snapped Jeffrey out of his reverie.

They were at her car now. “Thursday,” he said. He kissed her quickly, then walked away.

On the drive home Jeffrey frowned. That nasty thought wouldn’t leave his mind. Natalie couldn’t be screwing around, he told himself. She had said time and time again that she was a one man woman. Of course he had said that he was a one woman guy, but that was different. That was just to shut her up.

What is she was screwing around?

He couldn’t think about that.

When he arrived home five minutes later, he was still horny. Natalie’s car wasn’t in the driveway, and the house was dark and silent. He checked the mail on the end table in the living room. He noticed the shrink wrapped video, Hot and Horny Couples, Vol. 5. He belonged to an adult video club, which Natalie didn’t mind that much. Sometimes she even watched the videos with him. It seemed to be the only thing nowadays that got her excited.

He glanced at his watch. A good forty minutes before she came home. More than enough time to put the tape in, scan forward to a good part and treat himself to a hot jerk off session.

He headed for the bedroom, put the tape in the VCR and zapped past the phone sex commercials as he hurriedly undressed.

The first scene came up suddenly, and the action seemed to begin immediately. Jeffrey hit the play button, intending to rewind the tape, but the action was already hot. A well built man who was hung like a horse was eating a woman out from behind. Her cries of pleasure sent ripples through Jeffrey. It sounded like the guy really knew how to use his tongue. He was stimulating her wit his fingers, too— not just her pussy, but her asshole as well. Jeffrey reached for a bottle of skin lotion, squeezed a dollop in his palm and sat on the bed stroking his awakening member.

The camera was on the guy’s back as he rose into position behind the woman. He guided his member into her doggie style. Jeffrey shivered in anticipation as she cried with relief. The man began fucking her, and Jeffrey began jerking off. He wished he was the one doing the fucking on screen. God, he wanted to fuck somebody!

The camera angle shifted twice. First it focused on the man’s face, and Jeffrey recognized him as porn star Frank Steele. Then the camera moved over the small of the woman’s back. Frank Steele’s pelvis butted up against her tight, creamy ass as his cock drove between her butt cheeks, in and out of her pussy. God, what a sight!

Jeffrey jerked off harder. His cock was still slick with a mixture of Kristen’s saliva, his own come and the skin lotion he had used. The action of his hand on his cock produced a wet, slurpy sound much like the one coming from the video as Frank Steele’s hips made faster and harder contact with the woman’s ass cheeks. His hands clenched and kneaded her round ass as his massive dick plunged in and out, in and out, deeper and deeper. And then—

Jeffrey stopped his own hand action and watched the screen, mesmerized. The woman was crying and moaning in pleasure, and it sounded somehow familiar. He couldn’t see either of their faces. For a moment the camera panned down to the woman’s swinging breasts, which also looked vaguely familiar. They were full, with large areolae and nipples, and they definitely looked real, not like silicone fakes.

Then the camera jumped back up to the woman’s ass, with the guy’s cock still sliding in and out of her pussy doggie style. The more Jeffrey watched, the more he thought that he recognized that ass, too. Surely it couldn’t be—

The camera closed in on Frank Steele’s sweaty face. His cries of pleasure mixed with the woman’s. The camera pulled back as he pulled his massive cock out and jerked his large load over her creamy white ass. He jerked his massive cock over her, spraying her ass and lower back with copious amounts of jism.

Jeffrey held his breath as he realized that he knew who the woman was. As the camera angle shifted down and Natalie’s face came into view, smiling in ecstatic bliss, it seemed to Jeffrey that she was looking directly at him. The look she was giving him was one of pure spite.

Up All Night: Absence Makes the Fond Grow Harder

So I’m lying flat on my back in the middle of Atlantic Boulevard, the main highway between Jacksonville, Florida, and the beach, reflecting on how I have wasted the better part of the past year working the overnight shift at a convenience store without a single day off.

I might also have spared a thought for a pair of nasty looking strippers who flashed their big tits at me when they came in that night to buy cigarettes. But that doesn’t sound quite as sociologically profound.

This was many moons and a couple of wives ago, when I was eighteen and flat broke. Scraping together first year college tuition meant taking a fifteen month break between high school and higher learning. The only work I could find that promised plenty of overtime was a shitty minimum wage job that a third grade dropout could have landed: holding down the eleven to seven shift at a convenience store.

I was feeling completely fucked, in every sense but the one that counted. That’s because my financially better off high school sweetheart already had started her freshman year, four states away. Intellectually, I knew Holly was being faithful. But I also knew that the object of my erection was surrounded by thousands of horny, manipulative, smooth talking college pricks who would want the same thing from her that I did.

As I checked in dead of night deliveries from bakery trucks, I imagined Holly serving up her own sweet muffin at off campus keggers, letting every hungry frat boy have a slice. Would she spare a thought for me when those blue blooded bastards’ boners were buried in her beautiful butt, her pretty pussy and her marvelous mouth? Doubtful.

While I brewed another endless night’s third pot of bitter coffee, I pictured Holly sipping jug wine with a goateed professor whose hand was roving down her unbuttoned blouse. He would make Frasier like references to Kierkegaard and Kant, talk about the summer he spent “finding himself” in Europe and confide how mature he found her for her age. Then he would whip out his purple headed teaching staff and ride her sweaty student body until more than the morning came.

On rare occasions when a police cruiser rolled past my isolated place of employ to see if I had acquired any job related gunshot wounds, I imagined Holly double teamed by campus security cops who had devised fascinating new uses for their nightsticks.

Even one of my best friends, who was enrolled at the same college as Holly, was not above suspicion. I imagined him easing his way into her heart and her panties, winner her over with wit, charm and the reality that he was close enough to kiss while I was far enough away to kiss off.

In other words, I imagined my precious, innocent angel fucking and sucking every stiff dicked guy she met. She had grown up in one of those conservative churchgoing households that routinely produce girls who go cock crazy as soon as they move away from home. And she thought a guy like me was a good catch, proving she was way too trusting and gullible for this world.

It was enough to make a guy go lie in the middle of a major highway, perpendicular to the divider line, half in the eastbound lane, half in the west.

So I was bitter, bummed out and bored. The kinds of characters I encountered on the job every night were not exactly the sort who made a fellow feel glad to be alive, either.

Take those strippers who’d flashed me. They had okay tits, big and round and not too ridiculously fake. But both were the cynical, hard eyed type, at least five years past what should be their profession’s mandatory retirement age. If I had liked my dick a bit less, I could have gotten either of them to blow me in the back room for a ten spot. Maybe both at once. They probably had done a lot worse than suck off sorry ass, sleep deprived saps at second rate stop and shops.

Another customer who made a lasting depression on me was a red faced inebriate who left a sloppy, passed out blonde in his convertible. Nobody else was in the store when he approached my counter. Not meeting my eyes, he quietly inquired, “Do you sell photo elastics?”

I had no idea what he was talking about. “Excuse me?”

He rubbed a hand across his mouth in exasperation. “You know,” he said. “Photo elastics.”

I really was not trying to fuck with him. “You mean camera supplies?”

He glared at me like I was an asshole. “No, man, I mean rubbers!” Apparently he had been going for the word “prophylactics.” God only knows why he didn’t just say “condoms.” Drunks are funny that way.

I had to tell him we did not stock those particular items. I hope he found a place that did, because I could tell he would fuck his slutty companion with or without a “photo elastic.” I saw him years later, tenderly telling his oldest child, “You were conceived the night Daddy had the misfortune to stop at the only goddamned convenience store in the entire fucking universe that didn’t sell scumbags!”

Then there was the morning a pair of Manson look alike, leather clad bikers stopped by, around three. They seemed to linger a bit longer than necessary, wandering among the rows, making my sphincter draw up tighter than a nun’s cunt at Easter. Finally, one of them eased toward the register.

“That guy across the street looks like he’s casing your place,” the bearded biker said. “If he pulls any shit, don’t worry. We’ll be watching your back.” Then he casually opened his vest. In a sheath clipped to his studded belt was a gleaming knife that looked big enough to fell a small tree.

My guardian Hells Angels seemed almost disappointed when the suspect drove off without incident a few minutes later. As a token of my gratitude, I sold them an illegal, after hours six pack. Or maybe they just took it.

Most nights were not so eventful. Hours could pass without a single customer breaking the monotony. It is remotely possible that a guy in such a situation might saunter to the Health & Beauty aisle, open a Vaseline jar and skim off an undetectable smear of the contents, then replace the lid. He might grab a porn mag, sit behind the counter and yank his out of sight crank. Anyone who spied his visible upper body through the plate glass windows might wonder what he was staring at, or why his eyes suddenly rolled up as his face went through brief but alarming contortions.

Fortunately, no one ever caught that hypothetical jerkoff in the act of sampling his store’s merchandise.

Considering the line of work I entered in later life— writing flagrant filth for those same sorts of magazines— it seems amazing that I remained as faithful to faraway Holly as I hoped she was being to me. I did not stray, even though I was at my biological sexual peak. Ain’t young love grand?

I should have rekindled a romance with Valerie, the skinny Fiona Apple look alike I dated before things got serious with Holly. What a mouth! I remembered the time my foot slipped off the brake while we were making out at a red light, causing me to rear end the car in front of us. How did I resist calling her up and trying to get her big, beautiful, bee stung lips around my woefully neglected cock?

Or Donna, the bohemian retro hippie with turned up nose, gamine haircut and sexy gymnast’s body. Why did I not try to get her to do naked splits on my face? Who would have known?

Hell, even those strippers would have been good for a little temporary blue balls relief. The cost of their services would not have made that much of a dent in my college funds.

Instead, I grew more frustrated by the day. Which may explain why it seemed a fine idea to “lie down on the job” across a major highway one night. Sometimes, you take your safe sex thrills where you find them.

There never was much traffic on Atlantic Boulevard between three and four in the morning. I waited until nothing was coming as far as the eye could see (quite a distance in flat as a pancake Florida), walked to the middle of the divider line, stretched out flat on the asphalt, clasped my hands behind my head and stared at the stars.

I wish I could report experiencing a cosmic epiphany. The truth is, I felt kind of stupid. After a few seconds, I got up, brushed off my smock and headed back inside. Four states away, Holly probably was getting cornholed by the dean of students in the middle of the quad while members of the marching band impatiently waited their turn and the school mascot bulldog bayed mournfully at the moon.

As for me, there was that violated jar of Vaseline waiting on the shelf, and a new issue of Forum in the wire rack behind the counter.