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I was making a lot offucking noise, as was Jameson. My neck muffled his though so all you hear wasme...acting like a fuckingspastic hyena once again.

What must the neighborsthink?

I tried to reach behindme to help Jameson out with his need as well since his magical fingers weresending me over the edge.

“No,” he shook hishead. “Just you...”

My high-pitched hyenacries peaked a few seconds later as I moved my hips against his hand. Whiledoing this, Jameson added his own reciprocating motions. It just added to theentire experience of being manhandled by my dirty heathen and I let go becauseI knew he was enjoying it as well.

Now I’ve never gave aman an orgasm by just rubbing my ass against him, other than the time Jamesonand I woke up in a sleeping bag together after a race the summer he won theUSAC Triple Crown, but in the land of theknocked-up-naughty-bed-ridden-pigizzle, there was a first time for everything.

Or asecond time if you counted the first.

I didn’t realize thiswas happening until I heard him gasp loudly, his arms tightened around me; andfelt his entire body clench and begin to shake and tremble right along with meas he growled out “Oh fuck,” against my shoulder and pull my hips harderagainst his.

That was by far thebest reciprocating motion assessment I had ever experienced.

“Did you?” I don’t knowwhy I asked, I could feel the warm sticky mess on my ass and back.

He didn’t answer mejust let out a deep breath like he’d been holding it and rolled onto his back,right off the bed.

“Fuck...”

“Hey, where did yougo?”

“I fell.”

“Poor dirtyheathen,”

I didn’t offer to helphim up. Instead, I reached for the Chunky Monkey and began eating my ice creamonce again. My flailing spaz was letting me know it was time.

Jamesonpeekedhis head up from the floor. “That’s okay...I’m all right. Thanks for checking.”

“No problem.” I mumbledwith my mouth full.

After showering once again,without the bubble brigade, I decided it was time to change my sheets since Igot them dirty. This has me smiling all the way down the hall to the laundryroom. Once I entered the laundry room, I spotted Emma in there doing laundry ofcourse bouncing up and down while she shook her ass to the music blaringthrough her iPod.

Watching this for amoment, just confirmed my testament that the crazier you are, the more caloriesyou burned. She never stopped fucking moving, even in her sleep. That’s why psychosare always so skinny, they never stop moving.

“What are you doing?”she asked nonchalantly looking at my sheets yanking her headphones out.

“What does it look likecaptain obvious?”

“What happened...did you pee the bed?” she teasedsmirking folding a pair of jeans.

I’ve had about enoughof Emma in the last three weeks. Between the road trip from hell, the bikerbar, the taint tank, the endless amount of Britney Spears songs, her stalkertendencies toward Miley Cyrus and her obsessive lotion fetish, I snapped.

“No,” I smiled widely.I used this smile once before when my political economics professor in collegetold me not to come to his class drunk anymore. “But they do have yourbrother’sjizzon them.”

She was obviously not preparedfor my response. Her features surprised, shocked even. When it finally dawnedon her what I said, she had a reaction similar to the cameraman in thoseJackassmovies when Steve-O shits himself.

“Oh my god!” she wasscreeching and retching and gagging and a lot of other concerning noises. “I’mgonna be sick.”

And what did I do next?

I tossed the sheets ontop of her and laughed my ass off. I was laughing because the gagging motionshe was making strangely resembled Mr. Jangles when he was trying to cough up ahairball. It was also incredibly rewarding after everything she’d put methrough recently.

“That...is...so...” more retching and other weird noisesI’ve never heard a human make. “Gross...”she didn’t make it and ran full speed for her size to the bathroom.