June 26, 2011
A Guest Post by TOTALLY TYLER (edited by John Stolen)
On a sofa in the back of Barracuda, Riley kissed me. It was soft, slightly wet, and lingered longer than was appropriate. When it was over, I melted into the sofa, smoldering and basking in the afterglow for a moment before our discordant flirting continued. Riley massaged my thigh as I closed my eyes and smiled. “Oh that feels good. Darnell used to–”
“Don’t ever compare me to him,” said Riley, suddenly serious. I started a mental checklist comparing the two men as Riley bit his lower lip and shot me a sexy look.
The ability to melt me with one look? Check.
“Oh, and how are you different from Darnell?” I raised my eyebrows.
He continued rubbing my thigh. “I would never laugh at you while you cried. I would never discount your feelings and call you crazy.” I looked away, remembering the heartbreaking demise of my relationship with Darnell.
Again, Riley pulled me toward him and whispered sweet, dirty things in my ear. “You’re going to love having me inside of you.”
Leaving me breathless, heart pounding? Check.
Riley stopped rubbing on my thigh to send His Man a text. “Thinking of you,” it said. Riley rolled his eyes as he told me about their recent heated fight involving cold shoulders and slamming doors. His Man doesn’t trust him. Riley didn’t see the irony.
Cheating on boyfriend? Check.
Would an ill-timed gust of 'wind' have extinguished any of the heat between Scarlett and Rhett? We'll never know, but somehow I doubt it.
Hearing Riley talk about His Man should have been my wake up call. Instead, I upped the ante. Like a losing gambler that refuses to fold, I placed another bet. I went to the bathroom, twisting around in the stall to take pictures of my bare ass. I giggled mischievously as I sent them to Riley.
I was in trouble.
I returned from the bathroom to find Riley talking to a cute boy with sloppy Abercrombie hair. I stood behind a large pillar and watched their interaction. Riley flirted with the boy, their smiling faces just an inch or so apart. My stomach sank as I watched them share what was obviously a “moment”. Only moments ago, I was that cute boy with sloppy Abercrombie hair, only cuter, and bald. It was then I realized this had nothing to do with me. Riley was looking for an escape. If it weren’t me, it would be someone else. Riley was a single guy trapped in a relationship-bound body.
I finally cleared my throat. “Oh hey,” said Riley, surprised.
“I’m leaving,” I announced with a fake smile plastered on my mug, trying to be casual. “I’ll catch up with you later.” I snatched my jacket, and bolted from the bar. Riley caught up to me on a street lined with picturesque brownstones and insisted I explain my sudden departure.
Through my intoxicated haze, I had a moment of clarity. “This has to stop! We can’t keep carrying on like this.”
He reached out to touch me.
“No!” I said, backing away. “I’m in there getting jealous and you’re not even my boyfriend.” This was my big moment my climatic speech. I tried to channel Julia Roberts’ “I’m just a girl standing in front of a boy” speech from Notting Hill but instead started whining like a kid from The Real World. I began my drunken ramble. “You don’t know how hard it is. I’m thirty-five, I’m single, I’m lonely. I need something real.” And then I did exactly what I didn’t want to do: I started to cry.
Riley seemed startled. The corners of his mouth curled into a smirk. “Tyler, c’mon. I get enough crazy at home.” And there it was: laughter at my tears and calling me crazy.
Just. Like. Darnell. Check.
Men like Riley don’t know what to do when tears are shed. He looked at me curiously before pulling me into an embrace. I hesitated but relented, eager to feel comforted, wanting him to make it right. With his arms wrapped around me, I felt weak. I felt warm and giddy. I felt… an erection in his pants.
I was in trouble.
Riley and I stood in silence a moment before he suggested a late night breakfast. Going home would have been wise but when you’re drunk and horny and pathetically desperate to keep a boy’s attention, you don’t do wise things. You color outside of the lines. You place another bet. You say yes to breakfast. “Or perhaps another drink,” I said, flashing my big brown eyes. Riley smiled, took my hand and led me to another bar. And another. And another. The drinks got stronger and we got weaker, our hands frantically grabbing, pulling and groping at one another. On a dark cobblestoned lane somewhere below 14th Street, the dam of perversion broke and I began speaking as if I were writing a Penthouse Letter.
“You should have picked up that boy at the bar. You could have taken us both home,” I teased.
Riley grabbed my arm and smacked my ass. I yelped and giggled.
Then, I leaned in and whispered in Riley’s ear, “You could have watched him fuck me.”
Riley couldn’t take anymore. He twirled me into a dark alley and pushed me up against a building. Gripping my face with one hand he undid my pants with the other. I squirmed against his weight and bit at his neck, egging him on. He turned me around, pressing my face against the cold and dirty bricks. I pushed my ass against him and he turned my face toward his, spitting in my mouth before making me suck his fingers. His other hand slid down my jeans and his fingers pushed into me. A car whizzed by and I suddenly feared getting caught.
“Wait, wait,” I said, pushing him off me with all my might. He backed away, panting, and I wiped a string of his spit from my swollen lips. “I have to pee,” I lied.
“Okay,” he said, pointing to the brick wall behind me. “Then pee.” I turned and faced the wall to pee. Riley stepped behind me, his breath hot on my neck and his fingers tickling my ass again. I wiggled to escape but it was useless. I stopped struggling and tightened my ass. My face scrunched as I attempted the difficult task of keeping my ass clenched as I peed. “I can’t pee when you’re doing that!” I said, shrugging him away. I tried to think of water. Streams. Rivers. Niagara Falls. Nothing. I closed my eyes, tried to relax.
And then, while I was publicly urinating in a dark alley with Riley’s hands down my pants, the unimaginable happened.
I farted on his finger.
It echoed in the alley, sounding wet and juicy, like a Whoopee Cushion. I held my breath. My heart stopped beating. Riley and I stood motionless, frozen. There was a deafening silence, and then…
“EEEEWWWWW,” he loudly exclaimed.
I turned to face him but he was already gone. Buttoning my jeans I walked to the street, only to see his faint outline vanish as he rounded the corner toward Sheridan Square, coat flapping. I circled the block, but he was nowhere to be found. I walked home alone, embarrassed and humiliated.