Dirty Play

wrap my head around this.
    “Yeah, and we only have two years before they expire.” Zack sounded like he was bragging, meanwhile I was busy trying to do the math for how many condoms we needed to use a day.
    “That means we have to use like thirteen and a half a day.” I took a minute to process that. “Which isn’t possible so we will have to rotate and use thirteen one day and fourteen the next. That seems like a lot of work and logistically not probable. I mean with other stuff happening, something could come up or one of us get sick, and then we have to try and get caught back up.” The thought of fucking so much was hot but kind of exhausting. And we’d have to work out a sex-schedule and then it would really feel like work.
    “Just means you’ll be too busy to have sex with anyone else. I don’t see a problem with that.” He paused for a moment. “And I already used over 400 of them. We’ll just have to get condom creative. Have water condom-balloon fights and stuff. So yeah, we’ll have tons of fun fucking like crazy and using condoms for weird shit.”
    “What? How did you use four hundred already?”
    “I’m working on a collage and it needs four hundred, but I got carried away with the hot glue gun and burned holes through some of them. It’s still a work in progress.”
    “So you’re a sexy artist?”
    “Sexy, yes. Artist, no. I went to a website for making collages. You know, you upload the photos you're working with, and the image you want to make with them, and how big you want it to be. I wanted to make a giant condom wrapper, so it is twenty condoms wide and twenty high. I wanted the image to look like a giant version of the custom condoms. Turns out you have to have different images to blend the colors together, so instead of a real collage I have a fifty-square-inch square that will have four hundred condoms hot glued on it.”
    “It still sounds awesome. I can’t wait to see it. What are you going to do with it when it’s done?” I asked curiously.
    “Originally I planned to impress you with it. I was hoping when you saw it you’d be all, like, wooed and then I’d say something like, ‘I want to stick my big sword in your tight sheath,’ and you’d be so enamored by the collage you wouldn’t notice how corny I am,” he said, grinning at me like a cheeseball. (Some people say goofball, but I like cheese and balls, and I really like Zack’s balls.)
    “All you had to do was show me your sword and I’d be more than impressed and let you sheath it wherever you wanted,” I replied, proud of myself for being flirty and not saying something like, “I like corn,” which I do, but that doesn’t sound sexy (unless you have a food fetish).
    “I know that now. The collage idea was before I knew how easy you were,” he said teasingly. I was still thinking about corn.
    “Hey, Zack, you have a food fetish?” I asked because it was best to know these things, especially since I’d committed to having lots and lots of sex with him.
    “Not particularly, but I like food, so if you have a food fetish, it’s cool.” Damn his voice was sexy.
    “I don’t either. I was just thinking about corn.” I hoped he didn’t ask me why I was thinking about it, because I seriously didn’t know.
    He rolled over, hovering above me, and put his lips by my ear, “I never had a boyfriend that got excited about corn before.”
    “I don’t get turned on thinking about corn. And who said I’d be your boyfriend?” I moaned when he lowered his body to rub against mine.
    “You feel excited and you said you were thinking about corn. And you have to be my boyfriend; I’m making you condom art.”
    “Trust me, it’s not the corn that’s making me hard, and you are persuasive with your mating rituals. Stealing, blackmail, weird art gifts, and really great sex… who could say no to that?”
    “When you put it like that it sounds like the best first date ever. Now shut up so we can get started on using these condoms.” That sounded like a brilliant idea. Not that conversation was possible since he’d barely finished his sentence before his lips were sealed to mine. Then he pulled away again to whisper, “Don’t forget I want to hear you talk dirty.”
    ****
    Later that night…
    Mission: Dirty Play. EPIC SUCCESS!

    ####
    Kyle Adams
    Email: [email protected]
    Blog: kyleadams2.blogspot.com
    Twitter: http://twitter.com/kyle_adams2