Title: I Shot an Arrow into the Air
"You're a big dick, Mac," Charlie yelled. "Why'd you go and do it? Why'd you do it?"
"You know me; I couldn't help myself. I saw the ad that said 'free road tests' and I signed us up. How was I supposed to it was the Uncle Sam's version of Mystery Date?"
"Mystery Date?! Bite me, bitch! This is insane! Three weeks in a seclusion chamber-- with you?"
"It's for scientific purposes," Mac explained. "And besides, the food is great, and we can play all the video games-- just think how good we'll be at Guitar Hero. We can kick Dennis and Dee's ass!"
Charlie shook his head, then stomped the ground. It was damn cold standing it this lame line. The air conditioning was set way too low-- made him shiver clear down to his worn out Converses. And the little old guy in front of them made his shiver too, kept giving him really weird looks, like he was going to eat him alive. Looked like a damn troll. There! The old geezer did it again. He licked his chops. "Oh, yeah!" Charlie snarled at him. "You can bite me, too!" A nasty laugh erupted with clacking dentures.
Charlie screamed. "Fuck, did you see that? That old guy's a human piranha!"
"This way," came a disembodied voice. "Follow the red arrows."
Charlie looked up.
"That ladder goes up pretty high."
"Get movin', ya little retard!"
"He slapped my ass!" Charlie said, stepping onto the first rung of the ladder.
They climbed the ladder, and at the top, they found a large cubical with a single door.
"Step inside," ordered the same disembodied voice.
"You go first," Charlie said, pushing Mac forward; "it was your idea!"
Mac cautiously stepped inside. "This isn't so bad," his voice echoed. "They even have Parcheesi."
As Charlie stepped over the threshold, the door slammed behind them.
"Three weeks," Charlie said, inspecting the meager surroundings. One cot, a large refrigerator, small stove and microwave, a stack of board games and one large entrainment center. "I wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't for that thirty grand I'm gettin'," Charlie said.
"About that thirty grand," Mac said.
"I'm tired. Will you stop playing Guitar Hero and come to bed?" Mac complained. Sleeping on the same cot was a bitch-- there wasn't much room, but he couldn't stand the noise any longer. "If I hear 'Sharp Dressed Man' one more time I gonna blow my ZZ Top!"
"At least someone is gonna get blown," Charlie said, turning off the the system. He grabbed his crotch. "The one thing we didn't get in this place was good porn."
"I don't want to hear it! I don't want to see it!"
"We gotta beat off sometime," Charlie said. "Hey, I got an idea! We could have a competition! First one to cum gets to do dishes!"
"Shouldn't that be the last one to cum?"
Mac wasn't too sure about doing it until Charlie pulled his big shlong out of hiding.
"Whoah! Put that monster away!"
He had a firm grasp on the situation. A firm, hard grasp.
Mac couldn't take his eyes off it and felt his jeans cramp. Yeah, his own monster needed exercise. "Let the contest begin!"
This was hot, hotter than he ever though possible, seeing Charlie's fist working that big dick brought feelings of Mac that he never knew existed. He had a sudden urge to taste that big hunk of meat. He moved that hand up and down, flexing and savoring each stroke. And the way Charlie's tongue moved as he worked his enormous cock, made Charlie groan. Fuck. He couldn't hold back-- he shoot high and long. Charlie's eyes met his and was just as gone. Spunk plastered all over each other and the cot.
"I guess I do the dishes," Charlie sighed. "Or we could go for the two out of three for say-- doing dishes for two days."
"Or one of us could do the other."
"Best two out of three! Ready, set, go!"