The stripes

The stripes

I was just doing the dishes when Stephen called. He sounded excited, almost hysterical, definitely worried and disturbed.
His penis had gotten stripes overnight.
“Get out of here,” I said and laughed as I wiped my wet hands on my pants. This could take awhile.
“Really!” Stephen cried. “Really, let me come over and show you.”

Show me? Your cock? I mean this has to be a brand new line. A line I’ve never heard before.
Stephen and I go way back, back all the way to grade school, and although he put his tongue once or twice in my mouth, we never took it any further.
Most people I know say its not possible – a man and a woman just being friends – sooner or later sex always gets in the way - but Stephen and I, we prove them wrong.

“Lisa,” he said, “I’m coming over and that’s that.”
That’s that, is something Stephen says often, but he really means end of discussion.
It takes him only 15 minutes to get to my apartment so I quickly looked in the mirror. No way could I look at his penis with this face.
I stripped, jumped in for a 4 and a half minute shower and slapped some of my very expensive face cream all over my body.
Thank Goodness I always have a brand new pair of underwear in my closet in case of emergency.
This was definitely an emergency.
So I put on my sexy black and white bra and panty set, threw back on my jeans and a T-shirt. It was just Stephen after all.
Twelve minutes later, I was still brushing my hair when the doorbell rang.
Holy cow, he must really have speeded.
I started doing my lashes when he pressed his finger insistently on the buzzer making me smear some mascara on my face.
“Shit Stephen,” I said into the intercom, “can’t you wait a second?”
“Not a second longer,” he shouted while I looked in the mirror. I looked good. I could hear him rushing up all four flights of stairs. He didn’t even breath heavy, he is in good shape.

“So, where do you want to do it? In the kitchen? In the bathroom?”
He just stared at me. “In the bedroom of course, do you think this is funny?”
He pushed me into the bedroom and opened the fly of his jeans. He surely is quick when he sets his mind to it.
“Look at that Lisa,” he said, “look at that.”
I took a good look. I took a really good look. Well, there were definitely stripes. Not black and white like a zebra, more brown and reddish like an ancient painting. His penis was really big, bigger as I thought and surprisingly smooth.
“It looks pretty,” I said. I meant it from the bottom of my heart.
“Are you nuts? Pretty! It’s a fucking nightmare!” he yelled.
He ruffled through is hair with both hands while I looked at his problem.
“Did you try to wash it off?”
“Wash it off?” he cried, “I scrubbed it raw, see, look here, my balls are bruised!” And he showed me more and more.
“But it really looks pretty”, I said, “like a painting”, and he froze.
“Liz Hurley!” he cried, “I‘ll kill her!”
“Liz Hurley?” He didn’t answer me as he wildly punched numbers into his mobile and I continued looking at his wild thing. It seemed to have a life of it own.
“You slept with Liz Hurley?” I mouthed as he waved and his thing waved too.
“Just an Indian look-a-like,” he mouthed back, “I’ll kill her.”
He dumped her over the phone something I normally think is extremely rude but didn’t bother me at the moment.
“The nerve of that bitch,” he said, “ painting my cock while I was sleeping.”
“It looks cool” I said.
“Do you think so?”
It was probably the glimmer in his eyes, the whole ridiculous situation, Stephen still with his pants down, the fact that he slept with a Liz Hurley look-a-like, I don’t know, but life sometimes takes the most unexpected turns.
“I also have stripes. Do you want to see them?” I asked

He did.