“What kind of fucking agent doesn’t get me to the show, Barry?”
Yeah, I’m pissed off. Barry is supposed to be a super-agent. You know, one of those shit hot jews with his big pointy nose in the book of making money.
“I told you Ceyx, it’s not what you think it is. Do I really have to call you that? Can’t we settle on a different name like Chris?”
“Chris?” I scoff. “What kind of a fucking cuck do you think I am? I’m not sat around in Batman socks eating my own jizz, Barry. Ceyx is my fucking name.”
“Okay, perhaps we got off on the wrong foot? I’m about to leave the office and head home. Can I call you when I get there? It’s just a couple of minutes away.”
Shit.
Beeeeeeeep.
I hung up.
“We might need to move this along,” I say, about four inches of my cock stuffed down her throat.
“Wutz ghz za macka?”
Gasp.
Probably should’ve taken that out of there.
“What’s the matter?” She mumbles, drool dripping down the front of her mouth.
“Nothing. NOTHING,” I protest too much. I look at the front door and then back at her face. She wants more. Who the fuck am I to deprive this slut of more?
So, I shove it back in.
That was a mistake.
Because when we heard keys jangle in the door, we both knew we’d been caught and if you’ve ever had your dick ripped out of someone’s mouth, you’ll know there’s a good chance it catches teeth on the way out.
“Shit! Shit, fuck, shit!” She says scrambling for clothes.
It’s too late.
“Hi Barry,” I say with an enthusiastic wave.
“What the fuck is going on here?” He yells at me.
Might not be best to say that I’m having his wife suck my cock.
“Your wife is sucking my cock.”
Who needs narration anyway.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Ceyx?”
I shrug.
“At least one of us is doing our jobs, Barry. I told you to get me into Old School Wrestling and there was no time like the fucking present. Cock Ring is the perfect fucking event! Look at it! It’s glorious. Tell me a golden cock ring wouldn’t look good around this beast.”
Probably shouldn’t wave my cock covered in his wife’s throat juice about.
Barry isn’t the toughest of men. He’s more like a weasel. Probably should be named Chris if you think about it.
“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, it was called Ring King.”
Oh.
“I can do that too, you fucking idiot. Laura, tell this cunt how I was King of your Ring!”
That didn’t go down well.
“GET OUT!” He yelled at me.
“Fine, I’m going. Just think – if you’d have gotten me into Cock Ring or Ring King or whatever the fuck it was called, I could’ve been in that….”
“And not your wife.”
“Next time I call, let’s talk about Ceyx.”
All things considered that went okay. I didn’t nut though. Need to be a squirrel.