Read Online You Only Get So Much by Dan Kolbet - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Dan Kolbet
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three of us stand there, unsure what to do about this
recent development.
"Help me,
man," he says to me. "It's stuck."
"No shit,
genius," I say. For some reason the rage and awe I felt moments ago had
been replaced by sympathy for this idiot. "Let me take a look."
Now, let me say this.
I'm a man's man. I like beer and football and women with large breasts. At the
urinal I stare straight ahead, as to never give the impression that my eyes
could even once wander in the direction of another man's exposed body parts.
That's the guy code—or at least part of it. Keep your eyes to yourself.
This is why so many guys get hurt in the locker room shower. You only have so
much real estate available on the ground for you to look at. Walking into walls
or bolted-down wooden benches are common locker room ailments. And it is worth
it to avoid seeing another man's wang.
I'm not interested in
seeing another man's junk—this is the thought coursing through my head as
I kneel down in front of Ethan.
"You need to move
your hand," I say. "I
can't see what you did."
"No way, man. It's gonna
come off."
"Well, that would
be something, alright."
"Screw you,"
he says.
I glance up and give him
a look that says I'm
not the guy to piss off right now . His idiot brain realizes this and he
moves his hand to the side, pushing his penis over at the same time.
Immediately Kendall plops down next to me and leans against my shoulder to get
a better view.
"Uh-oh," she
says, covering her mouth.
"Do you mind giving
me the tiniest bit of room, please?" I ask her.
She scoots over, but
only a few inches. Uh-oh is right. The zipper caught him just below the base of
his manhood. Without getting in close enough to count, I would guess that three
or four of the zipper teeth are locked on the skin.
"You need to
unzip," I say.
"No. No way. It'll
come apart," he mutters through clinched teeth.
"So you plan to
stay this way forever? OK." I stand up, ready to walk out. I don't need
this.
"You can't just
leave me here," he pleads.
"I didn't ask you
to stay here, at all," I say. "She did. I don't really care what you
do."
I shoot Kendall a look
and notice for the first time, that unlike the wounded soldier in front of me,
she is fully clothed. Long black pants and a light green tee-shirt. And she
didn't just put it on, she was wearing that when I opened the door.
"You do it," he says.
"Do what,
exactly?" I reply.
"Unzip it," he
pleads.
"That's not my
department. Kendall, would you like to do the honors?" I ask. She blushes
and shakes her head no. I look at Ethan, who notes her rejection.
"You're up,
buddy," I say. "I'll count to three and then you let 'er rip."
He mouths the word,
"OK."
We lock eyes like we're
cops about to raid a drug house together and I'm asking him to cover my back as
I go in.
"Alright, here
goes—you ready?" I ask.
He says nothing but nods
his head rapidly. I begin the countdown.
"OK. One . . . two
. . . th—"
"Wait!" he
says, "I can't do it!"
"Unless you want to
start peeing through your jeans, you're going to have to detach yourself from
your pants."
"You do it."
Not this again.
"Just grasp the
zipper with one hand and your dick with the other, and pull," I say.
"OK. OK." He's
practically panting now. "I can do it."
"One . . . two . . . three!"
"Awwwwww!" he
screams and then passes out.
*
* *
The nurse at the
emergency room didn't exactly laugh at Ethan when we arrived, but the chuckle
was enough to make my day anyway. Since there was no way he was going to be
able to wear a pair of pants for a while, I decided to give him a bathrobe to
cover-up with. This was nice in several ways, mostly benefiting me. Trevor
didn't have a robe and Kendall's was too small. Luckily Jennifer's pink
floor-length robe with puffy white cuffs and collar fit just perfectly.
So there sits Ethan,
still holding himself, wrapped up tightly in his fancy pink robe.
"You know, a man
can survive without a penis, right?" I say,
recent development.
"Help me,
man," he says to me. "It's stuck."
"No shit,
genius," I say. For some reason the rage and awe I felt moments ago had
been replaced by sympathy for this idiot. "Let me take a look."
Now, let me say this.
I'm a man's man. I like beer and football and women with large breasts. At the
urinal I stare straight ahead, as to never give the impression that my eyes
could even once wander in the direction of another man's exposed body parts.
That's the guy code—or at least part of it. Keep your eyes to yourself.
This is why so many guys get hurt in the locker room shower. You only have so
much real estate available on the ground for you to look at. Walking into walls
or bolted-down wooden benches are common locker room ailments. And it is worth
it to avoid seeing another man's wang.
I'm not interested in
seeing another man's junk—this is the thought coursing through my head as
I kneel down in front of Ethan.
"You need to move
your hand," I say. "I
can't see what you did."
"No way, man. It's gonna
come off."
"Well, that would
be something, alright."
"Screw you,"
he says.
I glance up and give him
a look that says I'm
not the guy to piss off right now . His idiot brain realizes this and he
moves his hand to the side, pushing his penis over at the same time.
Immediately Kendall plops down next to me and leans against my shoulder to get
a better view.
"Uh-oh," she
says, covering her mouth.
"Do you mind giving
me the tiniest bit of room, please?" I ask her.
She scoots over, but
only a few inches. Uh-oh is right. The zipper caught him just below the base of
his manhood. Without getting in close enough to count, I would guess that three
or four of the zipper teeth are locked on the skin.
"You need to
unzip," I say.
"No. No way. It'll
come apart," he mutters through clinched teeth.
"So you plan to
stay this way forever? OK." I stand up, ready to walk out. I don't need
this.
"You can't just
leave me here," he pleads.
"I didn't ask you
to stay here, at all," I say. "She did. I don't really care what you
do."
I shoot Kendall a look
and notice for the first time, that unlike the wounded soldier in front of me,
she is fully clothed. Long black pants and a light green tee-shirt. And she
didn't just put it on, she was wearing that when I opened the door.
"You do it," he says.
"Do what,
exactly?" I reply.
"Unzip it," he
pleads.
"That's not my
department. Kendall, would you like to do the honors?" I ask. She blushes
and shakes her head no. I look at Ethan, who notes her rejection.
"You're up,
buddy," I say. "I'll count to three and then you let 'er rip."
He mouths the word,
"OK."
We lock eyes like we're
cops about to raid a drug house together and I'm asking him to cover my back as
I go in.
"Alright, here
goes—you ready?" I ask.
He says nothing but nods
his head rapidly. I begin the countdown.
"OK. One . . . two
. . . th—"
"Wait!" he
says, "I can't do it!"
"Unless you want to
start peeing through your jeans, you're going to have to detach yourself from
your pants."
"You do it."
Not this again.
"Just grasp the
zipper with one hand and your dick with the other, and pull," I say.
"OK. OK." He's
practically panting now. "I can do it."
"One . . . two . . . three!"
"Awwwwww!" he
screams and then passes out.
*
* *
The nurse at the
emergency room didn't exactly laugh at Ethan when we arrived, but the chuckle
was enough to make my day anyway. Since there was no way he was going to be
able to wear a pair of pants for a while, I decided to give him a bathrobe to
cover-up with. This was nice in several ways, mostly benefiting me. Trevor
didn't have a robe and Kendall's was too small. Luckily Jennifer's pink
floor-length robe with puffy white cuffs and collar fit just perfectly.
So there sits Ethan,
still holding himself, wrapped up tightly in his fancy pink robe.
"You know, a man
can survive without a penis, right?" I say,
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