Bryan, our wingman and designated driver for the night stopped the SUV and opened the door. The smell of farm animals, the sound of night birds and the chill of spring accosted our senses. No moon. No streetlights. No stars. No nightlights. No motor noises, just the silence of the great outdoors greeted us.
The arboretum loomed even blacker in front of us. Old Man Gandar said his great-grandfather discovered this mossy mound because it sat all green and growing in the middle of winter, a hot mound in the middle of hot springs. He built a greenhouse over it and used it to grow exotic plants. Jerry-Man, his son and heir, turned the arboretum into our own private rubber bondage clubhouse.
We all piled inside the arboretum, lit the candles and stripped naked; six shaved, pink bodies waiting to be clothed in rubber.
No socks. No underwear. Just rubber. Huge, man-sized condoms that covered us from head to toes.
Bill fell on his face and couldn't get up. Bryan waddled around in his until he tripped over a tree root. I watched his pink, shaved feet waggle in the air until it dawned on me that I couldn't breathe.
Not enough thought had gone into this.
Opening: Dave F......Continuation: BuffySquirrel