Shirley, you jest

Shirley, you jest

Base: Running User-written Erotic Story
Date: Fri, 26 Jan 1996 07:11:57 GMT
From: Unknown (JayPee)

A resounding crash from the other side of the bedroom door
interrupted the conversation. After a moment of startled gazing
at each other's mouth hanging open Jeff and David simultaneously
spat "Oh shit" as they bumped against each other racing to open the
the bedroom door. The feel of Jeff's still substantial member
rubbing against his thigh caught David's attention. "Would you
please put on your shorts before you go out ther? She IS my
mother-in-law, you know."
"Look, if that noise means that Mark has gone off again, she may
be your LATE mother-in-law, and I'm sure she's seen a putz or
two in her time."
Entering the front room, they were stopped in their tracks by
the sound of raucous laughter from the kitchen. Fixed in place,
again they locked baffled eyes for a moment before crossing the
berber carpeted living room to the kitchen. Through the open door
came Shirley's nasal admonition, "Oy, those boys! I spent three
days last year straightening, you should pardon the expression,
this kitchen, and the way they smoosh pots and pans into the
cupboards it's a wonder they don't put somebody's eye out when they
open a door around here!" But the breathy chuckles scoring her
words belied the good time she was having. Mark stood with his
arms stretched out against a cupboard door which was holding back
a lava flow of Calphalon. The stance was a perfect showcase for
his perfectly sculpted lats, and his laughing deonstrated the
synchronous interplay of his diaphragm and cut abs.
"So, are all the boys in this place put together as nice as
you?" asked Shirley. "You must really be religious about doing your
calisthenics to look like that. In my day, the only place we
could see muscles like that was in the underwear section of the Sears
catalog. Of course they made the models wear a cup, and you
couldn't see their schvantz like in those shorts you're
wearing. What are those, nylon? What happens if you get a runner?
Free show for everybody, or what?"
Mark tried to get a bead on just who this looney tune might be
when the kitchen door swung open, admitting an obviously post-
coital Jeff and the hot number from the gym. "Mark! How nice of
you to help DAVID's mother-in-law in the kitchen. I just finished
fixing the VCR. I was grungy from crawling around the attic to run
the new wiring and was just about to get into the shower when I heard
this crash out here. Whatever happened?"
Picking up on Jeff's not very subtle cues, Mark continued the ruse.
"I had just run down to the garden center to pick up some fertilizer
for the pyrocantha, and when I got back this nice lady offerd me some
iced tea if I'd help her reach the pot on the top shelf. Then it all
came tumbling down! I've told...David?..over and over again about
how dangerous it can be to stack things willy-nilly in the cupboards..."
"The only fertilizer around here is this manure you're cooking up, young
man. I was born at night, but it wasn't last night, you know. I live in
the city, I know about burglars. You came here to rob my little Aaron and
his precious David. You probably knew he was going out of town. And you,
mister dingaling flapping in the breeze, they don't even have an attic. You
were probably helping yourslef to some of the beautiful clothes my sister
Sophie sends to Aaron and David. Despite my youthful appearance - nothing
but Clinique for me - I am wise beyond my years. So don't go trying to
give me this pile of crap."
While Jeff clasped his hands in front of his pecker in a futile attempt
to cover its substantial proportions, David spoke up. "Shirley,
these aren't burglars."
"So then you know these muscle boys, huh? And isn't it
just ever so convenient that one naked man and another who might as well
be are running around your house while my little Aarla is away. You little
shmuck, My Aaron's not even gone a day and already you're shtupping like a
bunny! Oy, where's my pills? My nerves!"
"Shirley, it's not what it looks like. Jeff is a massage therapist, and so is David.
In fact, they're partners. And around here everybody dresses like that, when they
wear clothes."
"A massage therapist? Don't they usually work in a trailer at the edge of town?"
"Really!" huffed Jeff. "I am state licensed and certifed in seven techniques, and
I have never even been in a trailer in my entire gay life! You owe me an apology,
lady."
"Lady, schmady - don't you get huffy with me, mister. If there's any apologizing to
be done, it isn't for me to do. And you, David, don't you look at me in that
tone of voice. I watch TV, I know what goes on. I even read the Village Vice one time,
but I had to put it down because I felt my blood pressure going up and I had to take
Heidi out for her appointment at the groomer - and not a word from you about the bows.
Poodles are suppsed to have bows. This is not just some little old lady from Sunnyside
you're dealing with here. I have been around the town a time or two. In fact, I am lately
a very modern type woman. I have to be, now that I'm going to be single again."
"What? You're not single, Shirley! What about Irving, your husband, Aaron's father?"
The puzzlement in David's voice was clear.
"Well, you are half right there, bubula. Irving has been for these thirty seven years
my husband, but Aaron's father he never was. And until last Thursday he never knew this."
"What happened last Thursday?" chorused three gay voices.
"Oy, such a mess, I don't even want to think about it. I need some tea if I'm going to
tell you the whole story. You got any of that nice chamomile tea for an old lady, David
honey."
"To hear this I'd harvest the leaves myself. You just sit and talk
while I brew. And don't leave out anything, OK?"
"Well, it all started when I was working at my father's store after
school. In my day, that's how it was done, you know. None of this
spoiled little brat with an allowance routine; we had to work to
earn our pennies. So every day this guy would come in to buy
something, just a little something - a can of beans, a bar of
soap, a jar of gefilte fish. So one day I say to him, I say
'Mister, you could save yourself a lot of steps if you just
make out a shopping list and come in once a week like everybody
else.' And he just smiles at me. Such a smile, it made me
feel things in places I couldn't even talk about to Mama!
'That's OK, it's worth the trip just to have a look at a pretty
girl' he says. 'Pretty girl? I think to myself. I'm the only
girl here. He means me! Oy, here I am engaged to Irving,
although I had not yet met him, In my day that's how it was
done. We not only were supposed to save oursleves for
marriage, we never even knew for sure what we were saving it
for, or from. And speaking of such things, mister fake
electrician, don't you have any clothes to put on? You're what,
about a 42 long? You can fit into my Aaron's things. Get
dressed, or I stop the story."
"You heard the lady, Jeff. Find something in the bedroom to
stuff it into, and be quick. This tea is just about ready"
commanded David. Mark nodded is agreement.
"So, here I am, always precociuos for my age, with this fancy
schmancy guy putting moves on me...

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