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“Even in college?”
“Yeah,” I answer. “Even then, we were under pressure.”
“We were arch rivals,” Colt adds. “That made it worse.”
“That was your fault.”
“What?” Colt snaps. “I’m supposed to follow your game plan and not my dream?”
Okay. What the fuck?
We made up last night. We’re way past Bama versus Auburn and Iron Bowl drama.
Aren’t we?
“What do you mean my plan?” I raise my voice. “Bama was your dream, too. We were supposed to go together.”
“Well, let’s explore this,” Dr. Gary rolls up his verbal sleeves, and yeah, let’s explore.
Because clearly, Colt’s still pissed about it, so we start again. Shit, we can throw insults like pigskins. And we do for minutes until…
The sunrise appears again.
More like the full moon.
The full, luscious moon of Blair’s gorgeous bare ass but this morning, she slays. I mean, it’s full out, fucking murder because my dick swells so fast, all blood from my vital organs rushes to my cock.
Death by swollen dick is imminent.
“Fuck,” Colt chokes down his shock, too.
There, Blair stands on the deck, summoned by our shouts. She’s lifting her long black hair off the nape of her neck, looking over her shoulder and winking at us while she shakes her long, pink and black foxtail butt plug.
Like a hunting hound, I’m about to chase her foxy ass.
Then she turns around, wearing pink and black ears, pink high heels, and nothing else but—holy pussy goddess—did she cover herself in pink glitter? Are her nipples darker, too? Like red rouged?
“Uh…” My brain quit.
“Um…” So did Colt’s.
My only remaining thought?
Blair can’t live with us.
Not when she’s going to kill us daily with pornified sex temptations no pussy-loving creature can survive.
“Gentleman?” Dr. Gary studies our stupified faces.
He’s got to notice us squirming like we’re sixteen again in sex-ed class when the state of Alabama tried to teach abstinence, but our hard, teenage dicks wouldn’t wait. All we had to do was come once to know the preaching adults were hypocrites. That shit felt way too goddamn good to be immoral.
“Bronson? Hawke?” Dr. Gary tries to grab our attention.
But Blair sashays to the side of the flatscreen, pointing at Doc like she’s a XXX-rated Vanna White.
This ain’t Wheel of Fortune.
This is about to be Wheel of Foxy Fucks.
