Are you over 18?
Dir: Doug Sakmann
Have you ever felt real disappointment in your life? Something so tragic that you thought, “I will never be able to recover from this?” I have. Twice now. Both at the hands of my wife. Last year she threw me a surprise 40th birthday party with all my friends and family in attendance. And it truly was a big surprise when she took off my blindfold and everyone screamed, because in my head I had concocted a scenario where she was driving me to a hotel where a naked woman lay in waiting for a three-way love-fest. For the entire 20-minute drive to the banquet hall I pictured all the death-defying positions we’d find ourselves in, causing one arguably Guinness-Record-size boner. As she walked me into the room with my clearly visible pants-tent leading the way, I reached for my zipper and slowly began to pull it down. Then she yanked off the blindfold and, “SURPRISE!” It’s a party! And there I was, literally with my dick in my hand. And my mom was there. Hi, Mom. I was speechless. I truly said nothing for minutes. She took it as me knowing all along and I said, “Oh no. I am really surprised.” Gavin McInnes came over and I explained to him what I thought I was going to be doing that night. He shook his head and said, “That would explain the raging hard-on that everyone can see from across the room.”
So this year for our one-year anniversary my wife made secret, surprise plans again. And stupid me, I let my mind wander, telling myself, “She can’t not give it to me this time.” Oh, but she could. Again I was blindfolded. This time I counted each turn, each step, and I knew with all certainty that this time we were at the hotel near our house. And I was correct. “Go ahead, open your eyes,” she said. Oh. The hotel has a day spa. You got us an afternoon at the day spa. And you brought wine. And a picnic basket of food. How sweet of you. God, I had to muster up everything I had to not show my disappointment. It really was a beautiful thing she did and I didn’t want to come off like an ungrateful cocksucker but she knew something was wrong. I lied and said there wasn’t. My hard-on screamed up from my spa robe, “Hey, lady! Cut the shit already! We can’t take much more of this!”
We were put into separate massage rooms. My masseuse was a young, blond Russian girl. Again I started to think maybe my wife would come into the room in some sexy outfit and porno music would start playing but it did not. Then I got nervous. Was this a test? Was this young Russian girl going to offer me a blow job? Because, you know, that’s what young Russian girls are trained to do. Of course I will refuse it and storm out. Maybe I’ll even sue the spa for sexual harassment or something to that effect. Then I started to think about how they’ll bring my book into court and read from it in an attempt to discredit my character. “Can a man who wrote such depravity really have refused a sexual advance?” My mother’s heart would break. I’m sure book sales would spike but, oh, how my mother’s heart would break.
Then the young Russian girl grabbed some big hot rocks and asked, “You are liking rocks for you head?” Oh my God! I started to panic. I’ve never had a massage. I don’t speak half-Russian. All I could think was this Russian gypsy read my mind, knew I planned to sue her, and now was going to bludgeon my head in with a large rock. I was so scared, I didn’t know what to do. So like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz I repeated three times, “I will accept her blow job and I won’t sue. I will accept her blow job and I won’t sue. I will accept her blow job and I won’t sue.” And just like that, I felt a warmth near my head and soon everything was better.
For more of Chris go to chrisnieratko.com or myspace.com/njskateshop
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