Doug and Frank and I would
tramp together to the high school,
a long walk, and, with his
early facial hair, voted most likely
to be a wizard, Doug entertained
us daily for months with his
stories of how a succubus nightly
rode him devilishly evil. Not quite
as good as the pornographic magazines
we hid in the woods but
stirring enough for the long trudge
to school, the saga went on
until one day when Doug said
his parents called an exorcist and
that was the end of his
getting laid. Frank and I never
knew if Doug was full of
bull or mentally ill, but, being
teenage virgins, we longed, at times,
for a little demonic delight ourselves.
That would come later as the
women in our lives would suck
the child out of us and,
at times, make us wish that
we could go back to a
time when Doug was the only
one of us making whoopee. Stuff
falling off the walls and houses
shaking with Doug cursing in ancient
languages while his mother and father
prayed around his bed doesn't sound
too bad when your wife is
out getting gangbanged while you are
cutting the grass at the formerly
happy home, or your girlfriend isn't
letting you see your child anymore
because she's decided that she doesn't
love you anymore so you have
to get a lawyer and sue
her only to find out the
child wasn't yours anyway. Most people
create their own hells. At least
Doug's put out. Six Sex Six.
17 December 2015