10/25/2006

Fucking Your Girlfriend, Slow and Sweet

  Richard, right now I am fucking Rachel. I should really say that I’m making love to her, as corny as that sounds, because it’s so slow and sweet, and we keep gazing into each other’s eyes, and every time I kiss her I feel like the world is on fire. I mean that with respect, Rich, because I don’t think you love her. I see the engagement ring on her finger, and I know Rachel cherishes it, as she cherishes you, Richard, but do you guys love each other? Really love each other? Let me answer that question by thrusting rapidly into her, and then following it up with four slow in-out motions, and then another rapid thrust.
  There. I think that clears it up. See the way her eyes are rolling back in her head as her chest flushes a bright red? That, Richard, is love. And you’re not here causing that love. That’s me causing the love. I think we both know that you can only love one person at a time. In this case, at this time, it’s me that Rachel is loving. So I want to thank you, Richard, for being understanding. I mean, I assume you’ll be very understanding about this when you find out. What can you do? Now her mouth is wide open, and it looks like she’s lost control. That should wrap it up, both for us, here, tonight, and for you and Rachel as a couple. Again, thanks buddy. You’re a real friend.



Fucking Your Girlfriend with my Super-Cock

  Richard, I have to tell you something. I love Rachel. I know, it’s a shock. I’m sure, in your own way, you love her too. But see, there’s a difference. Whereas you love her as a future wife and mother, as a life-partner in a nearly fiscal sense, as someone you could establish a long-term relationship with and who you trust to handle important household issues, I love her with my rock hard super-cock.
  I’m loving her right now, Richard, from behind, and with a kind of force that you, in spite of the new job at Sachs, in spite of the 2.4 karat engagement ring, in spite of the reservations at Leontyne’s for 120 wedding guests, are incapable of. I’m loving her so fucking hard that it feels like my cock is going to snap off inside her. But it won’t, buddy, because it’s not like your fragile 4½-inch flopper. No. It is, as noted above, a rock-hard super-cock.
  And Rachel is loving it. How do I know? Well, you know that inhuman, animal grunting she makes when she completely loses control and starts thrashing about on your tool like she’s going to sprout jet engines and go into low-earth orbit? Of course you don’t. But I do. That’s how I know.
  So seriously, Rich, when you come home from this business trip to Sacramento, why not do all of us a favor and not come home. Instead, just check into one of those hotels that has the porn channel that Rachel says you prefer to actual, live sex with your incredibly hot wife, your wife whose gorgeous, round ass is staring up at me right now, practically talking to me and telling me “fuck me harder, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”


Fucking Your Girlfriend (I Have Cancer)

  Here's the thing, Richard: I have cancer. So, really, I'm not in my right mind. I mean, you're my best friend right? And we would never betray each other, right? So if I was indeed "fucking" Rachel, I mean, were that the case, and I'm not saying that it is, but I'm not denying it, then I could hardly be blamed. I've got, what? Three, maybe four years to live? Unless I die sooner. It's not uncommon for someone with my condition to suddenly drop dead. It happens all the time. It could happen to me. You're my best friend, right? And, say, all I really wanted out of life was, just once, to really, really fuck Rachel. I mean, to really fuck her. Fuck the hell out of her. You know what I'm talking about. You’ve seen her ass. How could I resist? Plus, I think I might love her. She was always very nice to me. And I'd really like to fuck her.
  But let's say, just for the sake of argument, that Rachel and I have been talking. Just talking to each other. Now, talking is in many ways a greater intimacy than fucking. And yet, if we were just talking to each other, having this great intimacy that talking can be, well, you wouldn't be upset about that, right?
  Or, even if that would upset you, what if we were talking about my cancer. Then you wouldn't be upset. If Rachel is simply consoling me over the fact that I have cancer, then you wouldn't be upset at all Richard. You'd be glad that your friend is getting some sort of consolation in life. You'd be glad that someone was being nice to your friend at this difficult time. So if Rachel was to, say, hug me in the course of our conversations, that would not upset you. If you were to walk in on Rachel and me and she was hugging me and we were crying and we were talking about my cancer, well, I think it's clear what would happen in that case. You wouldn't shout at me, you wouldn't be threatening me, you would just, maybe, come over and join in the hug.
  So I think that when you walk in here like this, and you see Rachel and I together like this, and then you go crazy like you're doing right now, well, maybe you're not taking in the big picture. In many respects, what we are doing is simply "hugging" each other. We're engaged in a kind of intimacy that is in many ways directly analogous to hugging. Not even analogous, really: we were hugging each other. So I can't really see why you'd have a problem with this, and I think you should put that thing down, and maybe in spite of the fact that you're wearing that nice suit (is that Armani? I really, really like it) and that Rachel and I are somewhat less well-dressed, and perhaps a bit sweaty, come over here and join in the hug. Because really, right now, what we all need is a big hug.


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James DiGiovanna is the award winning film reviewer for the Tucson Weekly, co-writer and co-director of the award winning feature film A Forked World, and he makes pictures of robots. You can find his robots at spoonbot.com.