“Straight Guy”

* * * *

Jason lay on the golden border of the floor, staring at the milky-whiteness of the ceiling.

“Now, wasn’t that a worthwhile experience?” Claire said.

“Unfucking believable,” Jason panted.

“Are you ready for me?” she said.

“Give me a second,” Jason heaved.

The vertical slats of the white blind clacked to a whiff of air. The cool breeze swept over Jason’s skin like fall leaves wafting off the earth. A scent of pine needles infiltrated Jason’s nostrils, in turn, and brought them the freshness of the spruces, firs, and cypresses outside the apartment.

Jason inhaled deeply, trying to regain his strength.

“Stick it to me,” Claire whispered in a trio of tinkles.

Lazily, Jason rolled his head left. “What!”

Wesley bumped toward the V between Claire’s spread legs. “You’re not the only guy in the world,” Wesley answered. He squatted before Claire like a mountain overlooking a valley, and he untied his white basketball sneakers.

Something about the sound of Wesley’s shoelaces made Jason quiver with excitement and blush with envy.

As if starting to kowtow, Wesley lowered his knees to the beige rug, then pushed his white sneakers off via his derriere. Wesley jolted his deep-blue boxers and white briefs down, squeezed them over his knees, and stepped out of his rumpled clothes.

Wesley’s skin looked about 30% thicker than the skin of girls.

Jason’s nozzle rose to the Edenic beauty of Wesley’s skin.

Claire’s bush, however, jumped at Jason.

Jason goggled at the stunningly arousing work of art. How could he have missed the V that Claire had shaved above her cunt? As for Wesley’s huge frankfurter, how could Jason have assumed otherwise?

Wesley gloated at the red-hot of Claire’s prepuce. Swift as a golden eagle swooping upon a rabbit, he placed the tip of his foreskin between the lips of Claire’s vulva.

Jason propped his rising torso toward his left. “But you’re gay!”

“For your information, I’m trisexual,” Wesley said. He pushed his swollen shaft into Claire’s cleft.

Dipping his forehead, Jason tipped his eyes at Wesley and arched his amber eyebrows so as to say: Come again?

“Zone 3 of that graph behind you,” Wesley said.

Jason turned his sand-colored neck further left. Quickly, he studied the three interlacing circles that floated left to right inside the large picture frame. Why, Jason wondered, did each circle have a different season inside? Why were the circles different sizes, with the “autumn” circle in the middle the largest? Was that the bi symbol of the late teens?

Wesley placed Claire’s heels on his toned shoulders. He inclined forward his muscular physique, slunk his woody deeper than the lowest oil rig, and