Like Bros of a Feather

“Dude, does your wife always come that loudly, or is it just with me?”

“I don’t know. Does yours call everyone Daddy, or is that just me?”

I stared at him over the rim of my glass of Rodenbach Grand Cru and I wished for a moment I had ordered the Three Philosophers like he had. He always knows which beer to order.

“Last night after we had fucked six times I thought she was going to pass out, but instead she sucked my dick all the way down her throat until I came again. She’s a pro.”

“Yours can’t get mine more than halfway in her mouth. But I’m sure it’s not her fault.”

The bartender poured the rest of the bottle out into his glass, and I smiled at her. She had complimented his order when she had raised an eyebrow at mine. Sometimes I think I don’t get anything right.

“Has your wife always loved it up the ass like she does now?” he asked out of the blue.

“I don’t know, has yours always enjoyed begging and crying at the same time?”

We were both quiet for a while as we nursed our beers. What else was there to say?

“Do you want a sip of this. I think I’m over it.”

“Sure. You want to finish my Grand Cru?”

“I’d love to. What a perfect fucking beer. I was jealous when I heard you order it.”

I pushed my glass over to him and he did the same. I smiled as he took my hand and held it for a few long minutes.

Everything was going to be just fine.