Painting the Porch Rails (M/M MadLibs)

Thanks to everyone who participated in the Sweet & Spicy Gay Romance Deals Facebook party today! It was so much fun!

Here’s the M/M MadLibs story we wrote together. You guys, seriously, my stomach hurt from laughing so much at all your suggestions! Thanks so much for playing along 🙂

Painting the Porch Rails


by Spencer Spears & Friends

“Well slap my ass and call me Sally!” I growled, slamming my hand against the steering wheel of my delorean as the vehicle sputtered to a stop on the side of the road. Of course it had to pick now to stop working. It was midnight in the middle of rural Scotland and, naturally, my cell phone had no bars.

“Guess I’ll just have to walk back to that mom and pop burger joint I saw a few miles ago,” I muttered, pulling the keys out of the ignition. “Oh well, I have been driving for the recommended time to bake an XL Meat Lovers Supreme Papa Murphy’s Pizza. At least it’ll give me a chance to stretch my legs.”

Four miles and 5 hours and 72 seconds later, I’d done more than stretch my legs. I’d practically walked them off. But the burger joint was lit up, a beacon of hope surrounded by dark woods. I pulled the screen door open and stepped inside, letting my eyes adjust to the too-bright seeming lights.

“Can I help you?”

I looked up to see a strapping, buff stranger walk through a door that said “Office” in the back of the building. He came up to meet me next to a large chaise lounge. He was babely, beefy, and hella fine and my throat suddenly went dry. Hallelujah, he was hot! Unbidden, I could feel myself getting hard.

“Uh, yeah,” I stammered. My voice was high and strangled sounding. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Uh, you don’t have a payphone I could use, do you? My delorean broke down a little bit up the road and I need to call a towing company.”

“No payphone,” the stranger said. He looked me up and down and I felt like he’d stripped me naked and catalogued every inch of my body with the intensity of his gaze.

“Oh, uh, okay then.” I sighed. Gee willikers! What was I supposed to do now?

“But you can use the office phone,” the man continued. He jerked his head back in the direction he’d come from. “If you want.”

“Oh my God, yes. Thank you so much,” I gushed. “I’m Jake, by the way. Uh, should I just…” I took a step towards the office. I didn’t know if I should walk or wait for him to open it.

“After you, Jake,” the man said, twisting the doorknob and ushering me into the room beyond. I heard the door close behind me and let out a sigh.
Thank God. Any more time in that man’s company was liable to make me do something stupid. It had been a hot minute since I’d gotten any action and I was so tired and frustrated about my delorean that I didn’t trust myself to keep it together around him. Besides, I didn’t need him taking a closer look at me and noticing the ginormous boner I was sporting.

So of course, that’s when I heard the sound of boots behind me. I turned to find the man standing inches away from me.

“Uh, hi.” A nervous laugh escaped me. Mother hubbard, what was he doing standing so close to me? “I didn’t realize you, uh, came in here with me.”

“I come in a lot of places,” the man said. “I’m Gideon.”

“Gideon,” I repeated. “Nice to meet you.”

I was painfully aware of Gideon’s proximity. Every one of my senses went into overdrive, realizing how sweaty and swarthy he was. He smelled like cayenne and ginger and I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d taste like that too.

I glanced down and caught sight of his hands, all hirsute and scaly. I wanted to feel them on my skin, maybe even strangling my schlong. But glancing down was a bad idea, because Gideon’s gaze followed mine and I knew he’d seen my erection when he gave a low chuckle. My face flushed, staining my cheeks bright red.

“Do you, uh, need me? I mean, need something?” I stammered.
Dammit, why couldn’t I keep my composure around this guy? I’d been around hot dudes before and never had a problem. But something about him was shutting my brain down and letting my animal instincts take over, like a wild hippopotamus.

“I do,” Gideon said, his voice like chocolate syrup. “I forgot to mention. There’s a fee for using the phone.”

I blushed, my hands dropping to my ass to feel for the wallet I usually kept tucked in my back pocket. Schnikey, it wasn’t there! Had I left it back in the truck?

“Shit,” I breathed. “I don’t actually have any money on me.”

“Well dagnabbit! That’s not good. Unless,” Gideon smiled, “you can think of some other way you can pay to use the phone?”

Was Gideon saying what I thought he was saying? He couldn’t possibly be. This sort of thing didn’t happen in real life, did it?

But the longer I stood there, Gideon’s eyes glowing like a ferret’s, the surer I was that he wanted something from me. Something I was all too happy to give.

I took a step forward, closing the space between us, and reached up, putting my hands on his brobdingnagian chest. And then Gideon was leaning down, tilting his head, and his lips were on mine.

Jinkeys, that was nice! His lips were like fuzzy velvet, massaging mine hungrily. I parted my lips to make room for his tongue, letting him explore my mouth and claim it.

Gideon pulled me close, wrapping his petite arms around me. One hand slid down my back to cup my ass.

“Nice globes you’ve got there,” he growled.

“Thanks,” I replied. “I do a lot of meat grinding.”

“It’s working. French toast, what I wouldn’t give to put my turgid love hammer in your love glove! I bet you’re as tighter than a shoebox for doormice.”

I rubbed my stomach against his schween through his jeans. Gideon’s eyes closed in pleasure.

“Holy molten lava, Batman, I think I’m gonna splurge!” His voice was a whisper.

“I’d like that,” I said. “But first…”

I trailed off as I lowered myself to my knees, kneeling in front of him like I was getting ready to worship his yogurt cannon. My hands made quick work of his belt and I pulled his jeans and his sperm-soaked boxer-briefs down. Gideon’s dill weed sprang free.

Tan and musky, he had the most beautiful flesh banana I’d ever seen.
“You’re goddamn beautiful,” I whispered.

“So are you, honeylover.” Gideon’s voice caressed my earholes. “Now show me what you can do.”

Was this really happening? Was I really kneeling on a cement floor in a deserted burger joint in the middle of nowhere, Scotland, ready to give this stanky stranger a prayerful power slide with my mouth?

Part of me couldn’t believe it, but his single-barreled pump-action sperm-shotgun was right there in front of my face, erect and majestic – and it couldn’t be denied.

I closed my hand around the base of Gideon’s trouser snake and lowered my lips to the tip. I moaned as I slid him in and out. God, he tasted good, like masala chai and nutmeg.

I got him as wet as I could, letting my lips and tongue savor every inch of his length. A trickle of silken seed was leaking from his tip and I lost myself in the motions, simply enjoying the utter sense of bliss that settled over me as I worked him up and down.

“Fuck, ma petite chou chou, I’m gonna blow my kool-aid if you keep that up,” Gideon groaned.

I pulled away and looked up at him. “Sounds good to me,” I whispered. “But I’d rather have you spill your maple syrup in my juicy bubble than my lips and stubble, if you know what I’m saying.”

“I know exactly what you’re saying, dollface.”

In one fell swoop, Gideon lifted me up from the ground and set me on my feet, then backed me over to a credenza covered in papers and coffee cups in the corner. I worked hurriedly to unzip my pants and push them down, along with my boxers while Gideon pushed me down so I was leaning over the wooden massif.

“Holy smokes!” I breathed. “I want you so badly, but I’m a little out of practice and I might be a bit rusty. Do you have any spicy brown mustard to help ease the way?”

“No,” Gideon replied. “But I do have WD-40.” I turned and saw him reach for a teacup of the shimmering liquid balanced in a hammock hanging in the corner. As I watched, he poured it into his hands and rubbed them until they glistened with a light sheen. And then he brought them behind me.

I could hear the smooth, squelching sound of the WD-40 rolling across skin as Gideon stroked his meat tube. And then there was a dollop of it at my cavern – the most rumpled of my body.

He slid his elbow inside me then. I sighed in pleasure as he tap-danced it back and forth inside my rump, warming me up.

“You like that?” Gideon laughed as I squirmed back onto him.

“Cowabunga! You bet I do. The only thing I’d like more is your saucy meatlog.”

“That can be arranged.” Gideon slid his elbow out and I whined a little in disappointment. But almost immediately, I felt him place the tip of his spicy salami up against orifice of my breadbox.

“You ready, Huckleberry?” he asked.

I smiled naughtily over my shoulder at the hefty man behind me. “May the force be with you.”

And then Gideon pressed himself inside me. I let out a loud groan as he sank his dingaling to the hilt in one long stroke.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Okay? I’m better than okay, I’m amazing. Christ on a cracker, that feels good!”

“No freaking way! Your Babadook is so tight.”

“Well your willy is so big. So I guess that makes us a perfect pair.”
I moaned as Gideon began to go to work. His strokes were slow and tentative at first but soon enough he was picking up the pace, defenestrating me wildly.

“Harder, harder,” I begged, and Gideon obliged, driving into me with force. It felt better than cleaning dustbunnies out from under the sofa, that’s for sure, and I surrendered to the sensations flying across my skin. I felt like tiny gerbils were screaming inside of me. God, it had been so long and, embarrassing as it was, I knew I couldn’t last.

“Jesus tittyfucking Christ, yes!” I cried. “Oh damn, I think I’m going to spray my orange juice.”

“Yeah, you like this? You like it when I punish you with Mr. Johnson and the Juice Crew?”

“I flippin’ love it,” I groaned.

“Tell me what you want. You want me to leak my lemon juice inside you?”
“Please, yes,” I begged. “Fill me up with your Kahlua and cream!”
“Ejaculate for me, cookie,” Gideon said as he reached around to stroke my giraffe.

The words flipped a switch inside me. My climax overtook me, building from my very core. It was as though Gideon’s hand were my shelter, my safety deposit box, my home, and I exploded with enough force to paint the porch rails.

I felt his dongle twitch, then tremble, and he yelled, grinding into me three more times as he creamed his coconut oil deep inside. Our bodies shuddered together, united in ecstasy.

I could barely remember where I was when he pulled his sperm-spewer out of my crevasse. I felt like I needed to sink back down to earth. That had been the most pole-polishing experience of my life.

“Well, the phone’s yours now if you want it,” Gideon said, zipping himself back up. “But if you’d rather, you could spend the night here and call for a tow-truck in the morning.”

“You know,” I smiled. “I think I might just do that.”

Happy New Year! (a ficlet in 6 pictures)

Allen: Hey Buster! Sorry it took so long for me to get here, I got held up by the old ball and chain. You know how the ladies are, always making you late. Haha, but I sure do love my girlfriend, even if she wanted to spend New Year’s at a fancy club without me. Anyway, I’m here now.

Buster: Allen, bro! You made it! No worries about being late. I, too, know how women can be. You know, from all the times that I’ve dated them. Which is a lot. Anyway, it’s still 2016, so you’re not that late. Grab a seat. Meet Cyril!

Allen: Hey, I’m Allen, Buster’s best friend since kindergarten. We go way back and are super close.

Cyril: You’re a ginger!

Allen: Haha, yep, sure am. The girlfriend sorta has a thing for gingers, if you know what I mean.

Cyril: Can you do magic?

Allen: Uhhh… no?

Cyril: Bummer. I thought gingers could do magic. But it’s cool, any friend of Buster’s is a friend of mine.

Allen: How do you and Buster know each other?

Cyril: Work. I guess I’m not as good friends with Buster as you are, though. He’s had his hand on your shoulder for the last five minutes and you haven’t even said anything. You must be pretty close not to mind that.

No one ever puts their hand on my shoulder. Well, my mom used to.

But I haven’t talked to her in a while.

Buster: Haha, Cyril what a funny thing to point out. I didn’t even notice my hand was still here on Allen’s shoulder. Probably because of how close we are. It’s not weird or anything because we’re super straight. I could probably touch him other places too and that wouldn’t be weird either.

Allen: Yeah, what he said. Not weird at all. But I’m totally hetero. I have a girlfriend and everything. And don’t worry, Cyril, it’s New Year’s Eve! We’ll find someone to touch your shoulder by the end of the night!

Cyril: Really? How? Are you going to use magic?

Allen: No.

Cyril: Hey Allen, since you’ve been talking about your girlfriend so much, can you show us some pictures?

Allen: Haha, oh, yeah, sure, um, haha, okay, totally. Just let me pull them up here on my trusty phone. Just give me a second…

Cyril: No worries, take your time. It’ll give me a chance to stand up and come take a closer look.

Allen: Right, of course… um, okay, here we go. Here are a bunch of pictures of my super hot girlfriend who I’m totally in love with.

Buster: Yep, that’s your girlfriend, who I don’t harbor any resentment towards at all.

Cyril: She’s really pretty. And she even looks a little like my mom. Wait, but why do you look different in all these pictures?

Allen: Uhh, they’re a little old, I guess.

Cyril: Don’t you have any newer pictures of your girlfriend?

Allen: Uh, I do. But, uh, not on this phone. On my super expensive camera that I left at home that I own because I’m a really good photographer. I definitely have more recent pictures. Totally. Why wouldn’t I? It’s not like we broke up a long time ago and I’ve been hiding it ever since. That would be ridiculous.

Cyril: Wow, so you have a girlfriend who looks like my mom and you can do magic! That’s so cool.

Allen: No! I mean, yes! I mean, yes to the one thing – I definitely have a girlfriend – but not to the other. I can’t do magic, Cyril.

Buster: Just smile through the pain, Buster, smile through it. Someday he’ll break up with her and see that you’ve been here for him all along. And until that day, at least you’ve got your trusty friend, Beer, to help you out!

Cyril: Hey, look, the ball’s about to drop! Everybody get ready to cheers!

Allen: You guys, does the ball look a bit different this year? Or wait, maybe it’s just the air in here. Does something feel funny? It smells sorta like cinnamon… and fairy dust?

Buster: I don’t know. I’ve been drinking to dull my heartache and I can’t tell anymore.

Allen: Wait, Buster, what heartache?

Buster: Nevermind, the ball’s going to start dropping any minute.

Cyril: Hey, guys, we should make New Year’s wishes! And then rub Allen’s head for good luck when the ball drops.

Allen: Can we not? How about I promise I’ll make a wish if you promise not to rub my head?

Cyril: Deal! Though I’m not sure it’ll work as well. Anyway, I wish for a million dollars and a private yacht and a champagne vineyard named after me. That’s what I want, yessiree! Material things for old Cyril!

Allen: Uh, cool. I guess it’s my turn. Uh, I wish for my life to keep being as generally excellent as it is with my girlfriend, and, I dunno, like, maybe we can get married and have 2.5 kids and a dog? Because things are really great with her.

Buster: Great wish, man! I support it 100% because all I want is your happiness. Uh, yeah, so I guess that’s my wish, too? For you to be happy.

Allen: Aww, thanks man. That’s really sweet.

Buster: Anything for you, man.


Cyril: It’s dropping!

Everyone in the bar: 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-

… …

… … …

… … … …

Allen: Uh, guys? Does anyone else feel frozen in place right now?

Buster: Oh, thank God, I thought it was just me! I can’t feel my extremities.

Cyril: That probably explains why you didn’t notice your hand is back on Allen’s shoulder. I can’t feel my extremities either! Or move! Oh my God, Allen, did you do ginger magic to us?

Allen: Cyril, for the last time – I can’t do that. But is it just me or did the bar behind us suddenly turn green?

Buster: Yeah, it definitely did. Wait, so what happened? Why do you think we’re frozen?

Cyril: Magic!

Allen & Buster: Cyril…

Cyril: Well, can you guys think of anything else that makes sense?

Allen: I guess not. So are we under a spell or something? How do we break it?

Buster: I don’t know. I guess it depends on what triggered it. Uh, what were we doing right before everything froze?

Allen: Making wishes?

Cyril: Oh my God, you guys. I’m the one who magicked us. I did it. I made the spell happen.

Buster: How?

Cyril: I lied about my wish. I said all I wanted were material things, but that’s not true. What I actually want is to reconnect with my family and stop feeling this empty hole in the center of my heart.

Buster: Oh. Um, I’m sorry man, that sounds rough.

Cyril: Thanks. But wait, this is weird. Now that I said all that, I’m can kind of feel my fingers and toes again. I might be able to move soon. I think that telling the truth works. Can you guys feel yours now, too?

Allen: Uh, no.

Buster: Me neither.

Cyril: But that doesn’t make any sense. Unless… unless you guys lied about your wishes too?

Buster: Haha, Cyril, don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t lie about my wish.

Allen: Yeah, me neither. I was telling the complete, total, entire truth when I talked about my girlfriend. Everything I’ve said about her is definitely and absolutely not a lie at all.

Cyril: Then how come you can’t move?

Buster: Dammit.

Allen, I think Cyril’s right.

I think we both have to tell the truth. So I’m sorry for what you’re about to hear, because I think it might freak you out a little but…

The truth is, I’m in love with you and I have been for years. And I don’t want you to marry your girlfriend and have 2.5 kids and a dog. I mean, I do want you to be happy, that part of what I said is true. But- but- but my New Year’s wish is for you to finally see how much I love you and how good we would be together and for you to have that future… with me.

Allen: Buster, I never-

Buster: I know, I know, it’s crazy. I don’t expect you to feel the same way. I know you and your girlfriend have been together forever but-

Allen: We actually broke up six months ago.

Buster: Wait, what? You guys broke up?

Allen: Yeah. Because- because- well, because of you. She never liked it when we hung out and one day she finally told me she thought I loved you more than I loved her… and I realized it was true. And she left me. But I couldn’t tell you, because what if you’d asked why? I didn’t think I could ever share my feelings with you. I didn’t think you’d ever think of me… like that.

Buster: Really?

Allen: Really. Buster, my New Year’s wish is to be with you, too!

Everyone in the bar: 3-2-1-Midnight! Happy New Year!

Buster: Hey wow, I can move again! Happy New Year, Allen.

Allen: Oh my God, me too! Happy New Year, Buster. I- I love you.

Buster: I love you, too.

Cyril: Cool, you guys. Have fun with that. I’m gonna go call my mom!

Happy New Year!


Allen, Buster, Cyril, and me, Spencer

Wait, what?

You ever go looking for stock photos and throw something like “men together” into the search box, only to emerge hours later, trembling and shaken by the things you’ve seen?

I give you “Wait, what?” a ficlet in 11 pictures – all inspired by lefty’s hat.

(All pics from Deposit photos, click ’em if you want links.)

“Wait, what?”

Larry: Boy, I sure do love getting beers with my buddies in this suspiciously well-lit beer garden. Milton and Niall are the best. I mean, look at them. Milton has so much confidence in himself, rocking that checked shirt like he’s a sentient Pantone color board. And those glasses – adorbs. And Niall always looks so cool and collected, even when he’s wearing shades he stole from his 10-year-old nephew and a t-shirt I think he maybe hasn’t washed in a year.

It’s so much fun laughing with my buddies. Jokes are great. Milton and Niall make the best jokes.

I wish I were better at jokes.

Maybe if I keep my jaw locked and my mouth open, maybe I can inhale some of their humor when they laugh? Yeah. I’m definitely gonna try that.

I wish I knew what we were laughing about. Oh God, it’s not me, is it? They wouldn’t laugh at me, would they? Milton and Niall are my best buddies. Buddies don’t laugh at each other, do they?

I bet it’s my hat. Dammit. I knew I shouldn’t have worn this hat. It would look so much better on Niall.

Larry: I hate myself. And this hat. I’ll just never look up or make eye contact ever again. Then everything will be fine.

Milton: Oh my God, Niall, you’ll never believe what Tristan’s telling me right now.

Niall: What’s he telling you, Milton? Oh my God, tell me now, tell me now.

Larry: Just keep looking at your phone, Larry. Maybe if you act really uninterested, they’ll invite you into the conversation. Don’t let them know you’re crying inside. And definitely don’t let them know about your crush on Tristan.

Milton: He says he had a threesome last night.

Niall: No way!

Milton: Way!

Larry: A little piece of my soul just crumbled into dust.

Niall: No way!

Milton: Way!

Larry: I can feel my heart cracking in two.

Niall: No way!

Milton: Way!

Larry: I think I might actually be dying.

Niall: Larry, why are you being so quiet over there?

Larry: What? Quiet? No, I’m not being quiet. You’re being quiet. Shut up.

Niall: Larry, you can’t lie to us. Come on. What’s up?

Milton: Yeah, come on, Larry. We’re your best buddies. How many years have we been coming to this paradisiacal beer garden to drink and perform heteronormative gender identities?

Larry: I mean, a while, I guess. But you guys, you’re going to laugh at me. It’s stupid. Just forget about it.

Niall: Larry. Buddy. Come on. Tell us. Larry. Larrrrry. Larrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry.

Larry: Ugh, fine. But you’re not allowed to laugh at me.

Milton: You have our word.

Niall: Yeah, scouts honor.

Larry: It’s, well, it’s about Tristan. It’s kind of hard to say this, actually. But it’s just, he’s always seemed so handsome and funny and smart and cool and-


Larry: You guys said you wouldn’t laugh!

Niall: I’m sorry. It’s just… Tristan? Cool? He’s such a doofus.

Milton: And God, he has the worst taste in hats.

Larry: Oh.

Niall: Not like you, Larry. You have great taste in hats!

Larry: Wait. You… you like my hat? Really?

Milton: Heck yeah, buddy! I love how it sits on top of your head like it doesn’t quite fit right.

Niall: Yeah, but you don’t let that stop you. You just wear it anyway. I’ve always admired that in you, Larry. Your sartorial courage.

Larry: But I’ve always admired you guys! I mean, Milton, your whole Alvin & the Chipmunks aesthetic slays. You’re like the hottest humanoid Simon I’ve ever seen. And Niall, the way you don’t care that you haven’t showered in a month? It’s so impressive. And so is your man musk, tbh.

Milton: Wait, you guys. I just had the craziest idea.

Niall: What?

Milton: What if… WE had a threesome. We could even text Tristan about it.

Niall: Haha, that’d be so funny.

Milton: I know!

Niall: So funny!

Milton: I know!

Niall: So funny!

Larry: I mean, like, whatever. I’m down if you guys are. Totally cool either way. It’s not like this would be my first time or is something I’ve been craving ever since the first day I met you guys here in this heavenly outdoor pub. I’ve definitely never thought about doing this before, or dreamed about it at night, or painted watercolors of it that I’ve papered the inside of my closet with, or anything like that. It’s NBD, is what I’m saying.

Milton: I mean, I’m only saying this because I’m like, so drunk, you know? Like, it’s a total joke. Funny. Haha.

Niall: Right. I know, me too. So drunk. But like, in a fun, secure-in-my-masculinity kind of way.

Larry: Uhhh, right. I’m the exact kind of drunk that makes you want to bone your best buddies but definitely just in a friends kind of way?

Milton and Niall: Exactly!

Niall: Look how drunk I am, I’m wearing my glasses all crooked. Hahaha, sure is fun to be drunk and let go of your inhibitions, I mean, not that I felt inhibited or anything because that would imply that I’ve been wanting to do this or even given this idea any thought before this very exact right here instantaenous moment. But yeah, I mean, look at my glasses!

Milton: Look at MY glasses! And my eyes. I’m so drunk! I mean, not so drunk that I can’t consent to this. I enthusiastically consent. But in a totally playful, not at all homoerotic way.

Niall: Right. Me too. Just down for a non-homoerotic threesome with my best buddies.

Larry: Right. Yeah. Me too.

Niall: To threesomes!

Milton: Haha, what a gas!

Larry: Ohmygoditsreallyhappeningohmygodohmygodohmygod.

Niall: Well that sure was fun.

Milton: Definitely. And not weird at all.

Niall: I for one do not feel changed by that experience in the slightest.

Milton: Same. It definitely won’t make me second guess all the years I’ve put into making sure everyone knows how straight I am.

Larry: Right. I certainly am not full of confused feelings, swirling around inside me like a hungry, angst-vortex monster. Nor am I now feeling uncomfortable about my decision to wear jorts.

Niall: Haha, and you’d know what that’s like now, Larry, wouldn’t you. Things swirling around inside you, I mean. Get it? Get it?

Larry: Yeah, Niall, I get it.

Milton: You can always take your jorts off again, Larry. You certainly seemed eager enough to do so before, if you know what I’m saying.

Niall: For the threesome, Larry. That’s what Milton’s saying.

Larry: No, I get that too. I just-

Niall: Larry, you are so funny. I’m so glad you’re my buddy.

Larry: I actually don’t think I’m very funny, but, yeah. Buddy. Right. Totally.

Milton: To threesomes!

Niall: Really straight, not at all complicated threesomes.

Milton: Exactly. Cheers to that!

Larry: Hey, where’d this soccer ball come from?

Niall: Oh Larry, back at it again with the non-sequiturs. What a card!

Larry: I really wasn’t trying to-

Niall: Drink your beer, Larry.

Larry: Actually, I think mine’s water. How come you guys get beer and I get water?

Milton: Don’t complain, Larry. Hydration is very important!

Niall: Haha, yeah. You already let US hydrate you and you weren’t complaining then!

Milton: Anyway, I don’t know where this soccer ball is from, but it’s mine now!

Niall: Haha, no way buddy, it’s mine!

Larry: Wait, hold on, me too. I mean, it’s mine? Haha, I totally just want that soccer ball and not an excuse to feel your hands on my skin again.

Niall: Larry, you joker.

Larry: The thing is, actually, that wasn’t-

Milton: What a funny afternoon, you guys. We’re so crazy.

Niall: Totally. Hey, wait, Larry. I just remembered, you were going to tell us something about Tristan before we got sidetracked. Wanna fill us in?

Milton: Haha, or do you want us to fill you in again?

Niall: Heyo!

Milton: Up top!

Larry: Wait, was THAT a joke? I really think I don’t understand what humor is, at all. But anyway, I like, don’t even remember what I was going to say. It’s not like I’ve been burning to say this since we first exchanged eye glances across the rough-hewn, restored wood tables of the beer garden while bathed in magic hour lighting or like I have it cross-stitched on the underside of my pillow or anything. It’s not a big deal.

Niall: We just went through this, Larry. YOU are a big deal to us. We’re your buddies, your bros. You’ve already let us in literally. Now let us in figuratively! Come on. No secrets between us.

Larry: Ugh, ok, fine. Ummm, well, the thing is-

Milton: Whatever it is, we can handle it. Just like we handled-

Larry: I’m gay.

Milton and Niall: Wait, what?

Larry: And I get it. If you guys don’t want to be my friends anymore. Or talk to me, even. It’s fine. I just… felt like I had to tell you?

Milton: Actually… me too?

Niall: Yeah. Me three, to tell the truth.

Larry: Wait, so we’re just a trio of gay guys, sitting in a field with our calves out, covered in a light sheen of sweat, stripped of all our accessories and artifice, realizing we can finally open up to each other?

Milton: Wow. I guess so?

Niall: Haha, though tbh, Larry, you’d already opened up to us, if you-

Larry: For Pete’s sake, Niall, I GET it.

Niall: Good. But now that you mention our accessories… there are some other things I’d like to strip off you too…

Larry: Already? But we just…

Niall: Time waits for no man, Larry. Not even men with tiny straw hats. Now get over here and bring that soccer ball. I’ve got an idea…