Chasing Us (Dark Love 2)

“And the color? What is that, iris-purple?” Elijah questions.

“The fact that you even know that’s pretty gay, dude. Besides, it’s violet-blue.”

I roar in hysterics as he mentions the color. Only a married guy like Rocky would wear violet-blue, most likely to scare off any pussy that comes near him tonight. As Rocky continues to justify his choice of tight, feminine-colored jeans, the topless waitresses continue to serve us drinks. By the tenth round, I am losing focus.

“I’m surprised Adriana let you out tonight. Wait… this better not be your bachelor party because this is way too tame.”

“Me, out? I’m surprised Nikki undid your chain from the street post.”

“At least I’m guaranteed great pussy every night. Elijah, it will happen to you when you get hitched.”

“Please stop talking about Elijah and pussy. He’s marrying my sister. C’mon, Rocky, this was supposed to be a pain-free night,” I complain, twisting my neck to call the waiter back over.

“Oh yeah, my bad. Anyway, so look, all I’m saying is that sometimes you need to spice things up a little, keep that fire going. For example, once Nikki actually did use the dog chain on me. Made me eat her out for like an hour.” He lifts his glass with a wide shit-eating grin on his face.

“I’m not a bondage type of guy. We’re more into kama sutra, exploring different positions.”

“Stop… Elijah. Just shut the fuck up right now,” I snap, annoyed.

Raising my glass, I accidentally tip some bourbon into the peanut bowl. No one ever eats that shit anyway, except for Rocky.

Elijah frowns. “Perhaps we should change subjects.”

“Oh, yes,” Rocky shouts, clapping his hands with delight as a new group of women dance on the stage.

The music starts, and Madonna’s ‘Like a Virgin’ plays over the speakers. The strippers strut their stuff on the stage, all dressed in white virgin-looking bodices with their little white thongs. The older girl pulls Rocky up onto the stage due to his over-enthusiastic reaction to the song.

“Damn, those jeans look even tighter when the spotlight’s on.” Elijah winces.

I scowl. “Fuck, I think you can see the shape of his balls.”

Rocky moves on the stage, mimicking the strippers as they slide up and down the pole. The sight is good and bad at the same time. Moments later, he’s surrounded by the three girls, tits all bouncing in his face. He looks like he is in titty heaven, that’s until his face turns bright red, and his goofy grin is replaced by an embarrassed, forced smile.

“What’s up with him?”

“I don’t know.” Elijah shrugs his shoulders. “You reckon he blew in those pants?”

“Fuck, he couldn’t have. I don’t know how you could possibly get hard in those,” I wonder out loud.

“I don’t know, but he looks uncomfortable. Wait, he’s coming our way.”

“Dude, why the face? You blow in your pants?”

“N… No,” he stammers.

Rocky turns around, unsure of what I’m looking for until it stares me right in the face—a giant split in the seam of his pants right down the middle of his ass.

“Dude!” Elijah and I roar in unison.

“Fuck you, guys. It was fine until Destiny told me to crouch down so I could smell her pussy,” he complains.

“Why the hell would you crouch down to do that?” Elijah asks, appalled at the act.

“Because I wanted to smell it.”

“Dude, I don’t think that pussy smells any good. More like a

sea bass that has been sitting out for days.”