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We bellied up the bar and Cassie tried to comfort a distraught Christin. This wasn’t exactly how she’d planned the evening.
“This is why you always do a dick grab early on,” Cassie advised sagely, and I shook my head with a laugh.
“Like, how early on?” Christin asked.
“Do not listen to Cassie,” I cut in.
“Excuse me!” Cassie yelled. “She’ll fucking listen to me.” She turned to Christin and smiled. “Thatcher isn’t a woman—”
“I’ll say,” Christin interjected.
“So he’s never been in this situation.”
I laughed. “Have you been in this situation? I think not.”
Cassie’s eyes narrowed dramatically, and I put a hand over my crotch protectively. She smirked and replied, “No. Not exactly. But I have a vagina and I can empathize.”
I moved my hand when it looked like Cassie’s aggression had cooled and offered up a question. “So what would you do? To make her feel better now?” I looked to Christin and raised my eyebrows. “You want to feel better now, right?”
I thought she would answer, but her eyes left mine and didn’t return. I couldn’t tell what she was looking at until it happened. One minute I was standing there innocently, and the next I was being fondled.
“What the fuck?” I shouted with a laugh as Christin’s hand closed around my cock and gave it a squeeze. She didn’t answer, but instead closed her eyes and breathed deep for a full two seconds.
My panicked eyes shot to Cassie, but she just laughed.
“There,” Christin said as she released my confused cock. “I feel better now.”
Kline and Georgia arrived right then.
“Hey, guys!” Georgia waved sweetly while Kline stepped up beside her.
Still in shock, I did the only thing I could. Introduced my fondler. “This is Christin.”
Kline smiled and stuck out his hand, but the dick grabbing fiend wasn’t done. Right past his hand she reached straight to his pants and grabbed his Big-dicked Brooks without shame.
“Oh, holy shit!” Kline shrieked, his voice taking on a pitch way higher than his normal.
“What the fuck?” Georgia yelled, just as Cassie pulled a smiling Christin back.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice completely unapologetic. “But you just completely saved my night.”
Cassie laughed and then verbalized, “Yeah,” as she wrapped her arm around Christin’s shoulders and turned her away from the bar. “I’d say it’s time for a girls’ pow-wow. C’mon, Georgia.”
Georgia glanced at Kline, then at me, and then shrugged, before following the girls toward the bathroom.
“Feel better?” I asked Christin once we were inside the bathroom.
She nodded as her lips crested into an amused grin.
“Well, I don’t feel better,” Georgia interjected with an irritated scowl. “I gotta say, Christin, I’m not too thrilled about your grabby hands touching my husband’s dick.”
“Yeah, that wasn’t cool, Christin,” I partially agreed, “but I get it.”
“Wait. What do you mean you get it?” Georgia asked in outrage.
“Well, Christin here was on a date with someone she thought was a handsome Scottish dude. But her date ended up being a chick, no dick.”
“What?” Georgia exclaimed and her eyes damn near bugged out of her head.
“Yeah,” Chrisin chimed in. “Talk about a shitty fucking night.”
“Jesus, that’s awful,” Georgia said and her irritation dissipated in a matter of seconds as she pulled Christin in for a tight hug. “I take back what I said. If you need to grab Kline’s dick again, please feel free.”
Mother Brooks’, ladies and gentleman, the patron saint of dicks.
“Honestly, I think the two dick grabs really helped me find my happy place,” Christin said with a giggle. “My faith in humanity is restored, and both dicks gave me hope that the right man is out there for me—and packing a pipe.”
“No one tell Thatch you had that kind of revelation from touching his cock. He’ll think it needs a fucking cape and a tattooed ‘S’ on his shaft.”
Both Christin and Georgia laughed.
“What do you want to do tonight, honey?” I asked. “No way we’re letting you go home to eat Ben & Jerry’s and watch porn.”
“Yeah, that’s strictly for Tuesdays,” Georgia teased.
“I want to drink all of the alcohol in New York,” Christin announced as she freshened up her lip gloss.
“What do you think, Wheorgie? Should we leave the men for the night?”
