BEER TASTES BETTER IN A MOTEL


Randy and I had lived at the Mid Line Motel for two years. He worked the motel’s maintenance and they gave us a free room. Randy wasn’t my first or favorite husband, but I figured he’d die of an over exposed liver and I could live on social security in Mendocino County until I met a man who was good at keeping a job.

“Randy, I thank we need to spice up our love life.'” I waited for a fist through sheetrock, but it never came.

“Whatever you say,” Randy smiled.

I jumped up from the bouncy queen size and threw my arms around his neck. I failed to mention I’d already picked out a beer drinking out-of-towner who got home every afternoon at six.

“Why don’t you skip the bar tonight,” I winked.

A few hours later, Randy burst through the door as I stared out the window; and just like clockwork, Mr. Out of Towner showed up at room 401 with a six pack under his arm. I pushed up my tits and ran out the door.

“You lookin’ for a party?” I hollered.

I leaned on the brick wall of the Mid Line and stared out at the pool.

“My husband and I are lookin’ for somebody who likes a good time.”

I pushed my hip towards the wall.

“My name’s Steve by the way.” He stuck out his hand. I pulled his hand towards me and he grinned.

He followed me back like a damn puppy dog. “Randy, this here is Steve.” Randy threw out a handshake.

“So, you’re a workin’ man?” Randy started.

“Yes, sir. Contract work: hard on the body, but good on the wallet.”

Randy laughed and I rubbed my thighs together. He cracked open a beer and I watched his lips curl around the top of the can.

The two drank and talked about general plumbing and electrical work and when the sun finally went down, I climbed up on the bed behind Steve. I winked at Randy.

“Oh, does that feel good?” I asked with my best bedroom voice. Randy watched from the chair. Steve moaned.

“I can make you feel a lot better,” I whispered in his ear. Steve flung his neck up like a chicken without a head, “What’s…going on?”

Randy smiled and folded his arms behind his head. “Well, my friend, you’re about to fuck my wife.”

I kissed Steve’s neck, still damp with salt and dirt. Randy cracked a beer. “Now let’s get this shit show started before I change my mind.”

I pulled Steve back on the comforter. He unbuckled his jeans and I sat on top of him like a dog in heat. My thighs were wet and Steve put his fingers right between them.

I rode his fingers and pushed up my bra. Randy moaned when I pushed up and down on Steve and once his dick was hard, I put my ass up in the air. I sucked on Steve’s dick like it was a God damned Christmas present.

I pulled away from his dick and whispered, “Fuck me, Steve.”

Steve flipped me around like Stone Cold Steve Austin himself and gasped.

“You like this, baby?” I asked Randy. Randy rubbed his dick through his pants. I licked my lips as Steve pulled my hips towards him. I looked down to see my tits flapping like flags in a windstorm. He fucked me so hard I held my breath.

Steve let out a long moan and I felt his dick let out a heavy pulse. I tried to pull away but Steve pulled me tighter with each stroke. Randy sat up in his chair. “You better not come in my fucking wife!”

Steve worked faster.

Randy stood up and clenched a pistol. “Get the fuck off my wife!!”

Steve threw his hands up in the air. I crawled off the bed and stood behind Randy.

“Now look, I aint askin’ for no shoot out here,” Steve started with hands held high.

“Good, ‘cause you won’t win one in this fucking room.” Randy grinded his jaws.

“Now I suggest you get your shit and get the fuck out.” The gun didn’t move.

Steve gathered up what he could and grabbed his boots with one hand. I backed up to the bathroom and watched Randy slam the door after Steve.

Steve’s wallet peeked out of his crumpled jeans.

“Well, look a here, Randy.” I fumbled through the loose fives and tens and sent Randy down for another six pack.

Travis Cravey and C. Cimmone are two misfits who run Versification.

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