Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Shit. Now my cock is rock hard, and even though my jeans are tight, it only goes so far to hide what’s going on. I try and think about something horrible and gross to deflate it, but nothing works. The line moves, and I’m getting closer and closer to the wedding party. And my sister. I cannot hug my sister with a fucking boner.
Panic sets in. Sutton is still holding my hand. Dutifully. Still, it’s warm. Tight. Which makes me think about something else that is warm and tight. I have a pretty bad memory, but as for how she tasted, how she felt, the sounds she made, and her delicious scent, those are ingrained in my mind for life, which isn’t helping. At all.
“Make an excuse for me.” I rip my hand from Sutton’s. “I—tell my sister I’ll catch up with her in a bit. I just…I have to…I have to uh—go to the bathroom. Like right now.”
She stares blankly back at me. Okay, yeah, so it’s not normal to just blurt that out, but then again, I did just tell her about the way I get nervous and my penchant for throwing up when stuff like that happens or peeing my pants, as my grade three choral speaking has proven.
“Okay.” She looks terrified at having to face the hug line alone.
“I’m sorry. This is…it’s urgent.”
“Are you okay? Philippe?”
Great. Now Sutton is looking at me like I’m about to have another panic attack or worse. I hate the frantic concern flooding her face. “Yeah.” I bend down and brush a quick kiss over her temple, half to throw her off guard, half to assure her. “I’m good. Just really do have to pee.”
“Erm…okay…”
I make a mad dash for the exit, walking in the exact opposite direction of the bridal party. I feel terrible about abandoning Sutton, but I cannot, absolutely cannot freaking stand in that line with a noticeable freaking erection.
I head down the hallway with the bathroom sign at the top and burst into the men’s. Thank god no one is in there at the moment. It’s a big bathroom. There are four stalls, so I lock myself into the first one and lean against the wall.
Oddly and ironically enough, there were words engraved across the door of the stall. Have you done something today that would make someone proud?
No. No, I have not. I’ve done the exact opposite. I glare down at my jeans. They’re not skintight, but they’re tight enough to show the bulge of my hard dick. Eff you, you bastard. Why! Why now! Why won’t you just listen to me? Perhaps the more pressing question is, why do I have a hard-on for my fake girlfriend? For my secretary? Oh, yes, that’s right. Something about the little incident that never happened. When I ate her perfect pussy while she was propped up on my bathroom counter with her heels pressed into my back.
Fuuuuuuuuuuucccccckkkkkkkkkkk.
At this rate, I’m never going to be able to get out of here.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. It doesn’t help. And another. Nothing is going to help. I can’t just whip off my jacket and wrap it around my damn waist, but I can’t hide in here forever either. Maybe I can find a freaking closet to hide in and hope the boner from hell deflates.
My sister is probably so pissed right now.
Sutton is probably pissed.
My mom is going to be livid when she finds out I begged off from congratulating my sister. Jesus. It’s not like I can just tell them what happened. By the way, I popped a boner in line thinking about my fake girlfriend’s box, which is absolutely terrific in every way in case you were wondering, and I had to hide out here for a bit. Sorry I missed out on giving you a hug. Sorry I’m a huge, epic failure as a son. Sorry. Just…sorry.
I can almost hear the sound of Sutton rolling her eyes. She’d tell me my thoughts get dark fast. That I shouldn’t hate on myself so much. That these things happen.
“Philippe?”
I blink. It’s weird, but I swear I just heard Sutton’s voice for real. This is some creepy, paranormal shit going on right here.
“Philippe? Are you in here? I’m sorry if anyone else is. Seriously. Very sorry.”
Her voice echoes through the empty bathroom. I scramble out of the stall and find her standing just inside the door. When she sees me, she deftly turns and calmly clicks the lock into place. Now, I really hope no one has a poop emergency because they are going to be seriously screwed. I’m sure there are other bathrooms, but still.
“What are you doing in here?”
“Me?” She actually points at herself in confusion. “What are you doing in here? I came to make sure you were okay. I thought I saw you head this way. I…sorry. I was worried.”