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87

I looked away with a heartfelt sigh. He gave me a moment to reply, but I didn’t. He’d already said it all.

“That’s why she resents your coming home late, and that you’d rather jerk off with a little oil than fuck her.”

“Why d’you always have to be such a blunt son of a bitch?”

“Me?” He chuckled, refilling our glasses with some five-figure Californian white wine. “For giving voice to what you already know? Or for giving you a taste of all you don’t find with her?”

I met his eyes with a thoughtful frown. “Why d’you do it?” I blurted out. “I know I’ve already asked you this, but you never give me a real answer. I mean, what’s in there for you right now? What d’you actually get from edging me into your horny pet? Not like you even get hard over it.”

The bastard spun on his seat to keep from spraying my face with half-chewed food while he laughed out loud. He took a minute to calm down, wash the basin and come back to his seat, still giggling.

“Jesus, boy! How can you be so fucking blind?”
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