The Games Some Daughters Will Play

  I’m semi asleep when I feel a wet chill on my arm. Paul has just passed me a beer.

  I ask him, “Was I just asleep?”

  “Maybe. But hey, I want some more stories?”

  “Hu?”

  “I told you about trying to get Cloe to look at my boners.”

  “Oh that sort of story! Okay,” I say, thinking while taking a sip of what, this time, is wheat beer. When Paul and I get together it’s always with a mixed dozen of the gourmet shit from Europe. “Well see that orange bikini Emily’s wearing,” I say.

  He can only see the top half right now but he can’t have missed the bottoms before.

  “I have noticed the bikini,” he says, nodding sagely.

  “I searched the whole store for the pair with the weakest elastic.”

  “Noice. Noice.” He’s still nodding.

  “Well this morning I held my breath under water and got a super clear look at her snatch while she was straddling one of those noodles. Bald as a coot. She’s had the thing totally waxed.”

  “Well fuck me Roger.” We’re so drunk we’ve high fived each other. “Oh, and by the way,” he says, “we both have erections.”

  I look at his first. It’s like he’s keeping a banana for later. Mine is stretching my lycra past the height of my drawstring. So much for being old and calm enough to get away with swimming briefs around girls.

  “This so rarely happens theses days,” I say in a self mocking tone.

  “Today Roger is a day for reconnecting with, and loving, our hard-ons. Got another story like that one?”

  “Well I think it’s your turn,” I tell him. “Give me a more detailed one about you and Cloe.”

  “Alright. My top shelf story,” he says, and leans closer. “I’ve asked her.”

  “Asked her? Asked her what?”

  “About incest,” he whispers.

  Sorry, that’s just a teaser. Find the whole story at your favorite very open-minded eBook retailer.