Broken Sexy

Posted: December 16, 2014 in Fiction

Bellyflop was married. And that made it weird. Bronson had never slept with a married girl before.She had told him she wasn’t getting laid, and somehow that made it okay in his head. I mean? He hadn’t been with anybody in so long. How could somebody just waste it like that? He wasn’t doing anything too wrong.

He’d dated her in high school. He’d been in love with her. Back when she was Jesse and he was Brandon. That kind of made it okay too he thought, or at least, more her fault, and that was okay too. He wasn’t going to screw this up. He’d got there early and checked into the hotel. He had a suitcase full of stuffed animals: a couple of bears and a giraffe that was really cute, three stuffed turtles and and octopus that kind of went together, a kangaroo, a narwhal, and a snowy owl he really liked. Nothing was too realistic, and everything was very soft and clean and bright. He was paying too much for it, but it was alright, he’d been living at his parents’ house for months, and he deserved this. He’d been working, a lot, and he wasn’t drinking anymore, and barely even doing drugs. He was chain smoking cigarettes, burning through them like a bad guy in old action movies, but that was just for nerves. He couldn’t do that this weekend. She would hate it, and would like making him stop. She’d get that weird possessive hot she got when she was in charge or felt listened to. She knew he smoked, it was on his profile. Male Hippo, Newbie, Smoker, Looking to hook up. She’d like making him smoke, and even if not, it hadn’t stopped her from messaging him.

He’d only had the profile for a week or two. He put on a couple of quotes from cartoons that weren’t hip anymore, and photos of himself in costume. There were a couple from the convention he went to, and a ton he’d taken of himself. He wished he’d had more from the convention, they got the size of his big rubber butt perfectly. All big and blue and terrific. He’d only gone to the one convention, and had left before anything sexy had started. He worried the conventions might scare people off. He was still unsure of the culture and it’s loops and accepted behavior. It shocked him when  she texted him. Out of nowhere: “Hey, Brandon?” He didn’t even try to stay in character. “Hey.” Then they’d talked for like 2 hours on the phone. About their avies and where they had gone in them. She’d been around way more than him. And had pics from all over up on the site. He went through them while they talked. She looked great.

They were going to meet up. He’d convinced himself he was okay with whatever happened. They could could fuck in suit, they could fuck out of suit. He’d even be okay if they didn’t. He’d be kind of bummed if they didn’t do some suit stuff. He’d even be okay just jerking off in suit while she danced and rubbed or whatever. But even if that didn’t happen, he’d stay cool. He didn’t know what her boundaries were. He was going to push them. Whatever they were, but he wasn’t going to expect anything, just you know, to be safe.

He set up the stuffed animals. He arranged them in friendly organic circles. He wanted it to look like they were mingling. This wasn’t about organization after all, this was fun. He bought some wine, and had a little bit of marijuana. This was going to be fantastic.

She sent him a text. She was 5 minutes away. He brushed his teeth, combed his suit, and started downstairs. When he got to the lobby she looked tired and sweaty and perfect. A few stray strands of her raven hair sneaked out from behind her sunglasses in dramatic bolts. She lugged a big suitcase on wheels behind her. “I’ll grab that,” he said, and ran from the elevator to the door.

“I thought you’d be in costume.” She said.

He got a little nervous.

*this is part one. I should finish this tomorrow.

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