Mature

Keywords: Best, Friend's, Wife,

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"Take a look at this one, Andy," Bob said as he took off his boots.

I looked over from my locker to see Bob grinning stupidly at me. In his right hand he held open the December '00 issue of Screw.

"You're gonna get in real trouble there, Bob," I said walking to him.

"Fuck that shit," he grinned and handed me the magazine. I looked down at the picture of the guy with a horse dick being held by two fake-titted bimbos. "Nice, eh?" he smiled.

Sure it was nice. Fuck. What could be better, you know? Still, the foreman told us we couldn't take no more magazines off the press. And because Screw was the one dirty magazine the company printed, we were told almost weekly to not steal them.

I handed the magazine back to Bob. He shoved it in his locker and took off his other boot. He didn't know better. Bob was a little dull. Bob liked his Harley, the Green Bay Packers, his F-150, dear hunting season and fishing, in that order. And, yeah, sure he liked his wife Judy, sometimes. In fact, he liked pretty much everything I liked, except my wife, Tina, and my two little girls were first on my list. And, yeah, we both loved our jobs, press-men for a mid-sized printer run by this crazy guy who sometimes came onto the factory floor riding an elephant.

"Fuck," Bob laughed, taking off his T-shirt and revealing his slight pouch of a gut. "What would you do with two girls like that? Fuck."

I grinned. "Bob, you couldn't handle one bitch like that, man, you know."

"Bullshit," he snorted and pulled off his underwear. I turned away. Bob liked to show off. He had good reason. Bob had a big dick, nearly six inches soft. He said it got over ten inches hard and was thicker than his wife's wrist. "Come on," he laughed. "Check this out and tell me I can't handle them two in that picture, there?"

I glanced down and Bob was grabbing himself and shaking the fuckin' python. I turned away, wanting to wretch. "Yeah Bob, sure you got a big dick and everything, but God wasn't too kind to you upstairs, if you know what I mean, and that ugly mug of yours. . . ."

He laughed and threw a boot at me. I moved away and the thing landed with a loud thump on the floor. I continued undressing and heard him heading for the shower. Crazy old Bob.

Five minutes later, we were drying ourselves. It felt good. Friday night. Weekend and the Packers' in a critical conference game on Sunday. The green and gold had a lot to prove because they'd not made the playoffs the year before and we were sure they could pull it off this year. God, life was good..

"You gonna head to Toaster's for a cold one, eh?" he asked, putting his towel away.

"Sure," I nodded and put my underwear on. I grabbed my dick and balls and adjusted them so that they rested just right in the crotch area.

Toaster's was one of the local bars we went to after work to relax after a hard day. My Friday night routine was to play a little pool, shoot a little darts, have a pitcher or two of Miller Draft and head home to the wife and kids. I put my Levi's on, buckled up and grabbed my green and gold T-shirt.

"Heh, you think those two chicks from last night--you know, think maybe they'll like be there and shit?" Bob asked.

I turned to him. He was putting his boots on and was blushing like crazy. Bob may have had the biggest dick on any white guy in the city but he was totally shy around women. He was pretty shy generally. It had taken about six months for me and him to become good friends after we'd started at the company. We'd been there more than six years since, but. . . . That's why Bob liked me. I wasn't shy around chicks. It was never nothing serious, of course. Fuck. We were both married and we didn't want to mess that up. We just liked to flirt and shit.

"They might be there, man. I don't know," I said and started combing my thinning blond hair carefully, feathering it on either side of my part down the middle.

"Man, wouldn't that like be great, you know, to get some of that," Bob grinned.

"Sure would, man," I played along, fluffed up my long hair in the back and tenderly put my green and gold cap on.

"You don't think they were married or nothing, you know? You know, you don't think like they were lying or shit?" he asked standing up and combing his dark, thick hair. Bob was a lot less meticulous in his combing. That was Bob.

"I don't know, man."

"'Cuz, you know, I don't want to mess around with another guy's wife, you know. That's bullshit, man, you know."

"Yeah, I know, Bob. I know."

The two babes didn't show at the bar. After a couple of pitchers of beer, four games of pool (I won three), a couple of games of darts (I won both), three hours later, Bob and I decided to head out and call it a night.

Because my Blazer was in the shop, I walked with Bob to his '99 F-150.

"I appreciate the ride today," I said, getting into the truck.

Bob nodded, getting into the driver's seat, acting like I wasn't even there, and started the engine.

"Heh, man, everything okay, you know?" I asked him.

"Sure man," he replied sounding tired. He put it into gear and we were off.

I turned on the radio and smiled. A little Led Zeppelin. That would do the trick. Nothing like `Black Dog.' I banged my head a little to amuse him, but he said nothing, not even breaking a smile.

"Heh, man, what's your problem?" I asked, again, turning down Jimmy Page's wild guitar.

He shook his head, stopping at a red light.

"Come on, Bob. Everything cool?"

"Yeah, man, sure."

"Sure?"

He was silent and I thought it would be best to leave him alone. No reason pushing the guy. Sometimes a person's down and that was cool. Still, I was pretty sure I knew what was wrong. "Those chicks--" I began.

"Fuck them, man," he spat out. "Fuckin' whores, you know."

"Yeah, man."

We were silent again and the truck stopped at another light. The truck jerked forward on the green and rolled along. I turned the volume on the radio again. Cool. A little Bad Company. Sweet. Bob turned down the volume and I looked at him. He turned slightly to me and I could see he was extremely tense. He turned back to the road and we got on the on-ramp for the freeway.

"I gotta tell you something, man," he said, his voice breaking.

"Sure, man." I encouraged him. What the fuck? Bob was dying, what?

"Man," he swallowed. "Ya wanna know something?"

I nodded.

"I've only been with one lady, you know, my whole life, man."

Christ. I was blown away. That fuckin' monster dick and this guy's only fucked his wife? Jesus.

"You know, I just never met no one when I was in high school and shit, you know?" he continued softly.

"Sure, man," I lied. Fuck. In high school, a guy had to be the biggest nerd or the fattest turd in the world not to get some. Chicks would fuck you at the slightest word. All you had to do was get them drunk and bing. Fuckin' eh.

"I mean, I met Judy `cuz she was a good friend of my sister's, you know," he quivered. "And, you know, Judy told me once that she really got interested in me in the first place `cuz my sister told her she'd seen me naked and I had big dick."

I wanted to laugh my ass off. This was too much, but I didn't want to hurt the idiot's feelings. I nodded, instead.

"And, you know, we've been trying to have kids and shit and, you know, fuckin' nothing," he continued, his voice deep with emotion.

I stopped snickering inside. This was serious. Fuck. I felt bad for him. Me and Tina had two girls and were thinking about trying for a boy. She'd gotten off the pill last month in preparation. Poor Bob.

"Gone to the doctor, man?" I asked.

"I don' wanna go to no doctor, Andy. Fuck. What if he tells me I'm sterile and shit?"

"Yeah, but Judy's not gone neither, right?"

"I don't think so."

"Well, dude, it could be her, you know. You might be okay," I said, trying to be hopeful.

He shook his head sadly and then after a long silence he turned to me quickly and I thought the fucker would start crying. He turned back to the road, looking straight ahead. "No, man. Judy had an abortion in high school. She's fine," he said softly.


He swallowed and I could see he was sweating. Judy. What a fuckin' knockout. I always envied Bob he got to nail her on a regular basis. She was so petite and pretty. How she took Bob's big schlong I didn't want to think about. Probably straps and gears and shit. And her ass . . . fuck. But things started getting clear now. She'd probably gotten a bad rap as a slut in high school and then had to settle for old Bob. "Settle for old Bob?" Fuck, come on, man, don't be such an asshole. Bob was a good guy.

We got off the freeway in silence.

"You know, Bob," I said at the stop light at the end of the off-ramp. "If you really wanna get laid, just, you know, let me know."

"What do you mean man?" he asked.

"What I mean, man, is I still know a lot of girls from high school and shit and, you know, some of them are divorced or never got married or nothing and, you know, if you wanna. . . ." I faded.

"Maybe, man," he whispered. "I don't know, you know."

"Well, Bob, I mean, like what's your main, you know, issue and shit, man? Is it you wanna get laid or you want your wife pregnant?" I asked. Fuckin' eh. I'm offering the jerk-off some pretty quality pussy and he's acting like some fuckin' priest.

"They're kind of connected, you know," he said softly.

"What do you mean, man?"

"Fuck," he blurted. "I mean, maybe it's just, you know, the chemistry between me and Judy. Maybe if I was with some other chick, maybe it would be, you know, like different."

"Bob, man. You wanna divorce Judy?" I asked surprised.

"No fuckin' way, dude," he snapped. "No, man. I'm not saying that, man."

"What the fuck are you saying?"

"I'm saying maybe my sperm needs to mix a little with someone else and everything'll be okay and shit with Judy."

"What the fuck are you talking about, man?" I turned to him. "Are you nuts?"

"I don't know," he replied after a moment or two and looked straight ahead.

"Go to a fuckin' doctor, Bob, you stupid ass.

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Keywords: Best, Friend's, Wife,