That’s Not What Donuts Are For
That’s Not What Donuts Are For
An Off-Season Bonus Scene
EASY
I flip the sign on the door from 'open' to 'closed', chuckling like I always do at my own sense of humor. The 'closed' sign for my donut shop, The Tasty Hole, is a donut that looks like it has a tightly puckered butthole. The tourists get a kick out of it too.
It was a slow ass day today, which means I have more donuts to toss than I’d like.
Tomorrow is Sunday though, which means I’ll have a line out the door and down the block, men desperate for a sugar fix before they get on the ferry back to the mainland and bid goodbye to the most epic vacation of their lives.
Donuts are a poor consolation for having to go home after a week filled with sun, surf, and more cock than any living man can reasonably handle— by god, we all try— but they are damn good donuts.
I switch off the warming tray for the fudge and busy myself cleaning up the rest of the topping station.
A raucous banging at the door draws my attention.
I’m expecting to see some tourists, too drunk to read the sign on the door, jonesing for a sugar fix.
Instead, I find my dumbass friends, rattling the door like a bunch of zombies.
“We’re closed,” I taunt.
“Dude, you gotta let us in,” Ten says, glancing over his shoulder anxiously. “A guy I hooked up with last season is back and I think he saw me.”
I cackle, rounding the counter to save him from the dreaded repeat. Ten and Trick spill into the shop as soon as the door is open, Lux following behind them at a far more leisurely pace.
My heart rate kicks up against my will when my giant of a best friend and roommate pauses in the doorway to give me a warm smile. Fuck, how does he always manage to do that? More importantly, why was a nice guy like me forced to carry the curse of falling in love with his straight best friend.
“By the way, that guy you were trying to shake last week, the one who downed all those shots of Hennessy and then did the strip tease on the bar?” Ten says, and I whip around to hear the rest of the story.
“What about him?”
“Word on the street is that Devil rented him an apartment.”
“He what?” My heart sinks. “He’s staying?”
“Looks like,” Ten shrugs, picking up a donut and taking a bite.
“Hey, no freebies, fucker,” I scold.
“Aren’t you throwing these away?” Trick asks through a full mouth, claiming three donuts for himself.
“Here, I’ll trade you a bottle of Bacardi for them,” Ten offers, holding out the bottle I didn’t notice in his hand before now.
“Fucking sold,” I mutter, snatching it and gulping down at least two shots worth, the alcohol burning as it slides down my throat and pools hot in my stomach. “That guy is really moving here?”
“That’s what Devil says,” Trick corroborates Ten’s story.
“Shit. You don’t think he thinks…” My mind wanders back to the wild time we spent together last week. He was fun. It’s possible I let myself get a little caught up in it, actually. But he can’t really think I wanted him to move here, could he?
“He actually came by the house earlier,” Lux confesses, and I curse again.
“I am so fucked,” I groan. Fine, so maybe the whole nice guy thing isn’t all the true and there are probably plenty of reasons I deserve a curse. “I’m going to get super drunk now. Cool?”
“We’re already halfway there,” Trick assures me, taking the bottle back and taking a drink before chasing it with another mouthful of donut.
Half a bottle later, the four of us are sitting on the floor of my shop, laughing our asses off as Trick regales us with a story of almost getting punched by Boston last night when he swooped in and seduced not one but three guys the man had been flirting with.
“You had a four-way and left the poor guy alone with his hand?” Ten gasps between laughter while I wipe tears of laughter from my cheeks. Lux just shakes his head at us, his shoulder and knee bumping against mine as he takes the bottle from me to take a sip.
“Nah, I pretended like I was taking them home and then saw them back to the hotel, gave them a box of condoms, and told them to have fun.” He sighs, running his hands through his long, surfer boy hair.
“How exactly is this supposed to end with Boston dating you?” Lux asks, and Trick groans.
“Shh, we’re not supposed to ask about that,” I stage whisper.
Ten gropes blindly for another donut, drunk enough that instead of just eating it, he holds it up to his face, looking through the hole and giggling. “You think this would fit around a dick?”
“Like, to fuck it? You want to jerk off with a donut?” Trick eyes the treat with curiosity.
“No, to eat it off a guy’s dick or something,” Ten explains, and we all laugh again.
“The real question is, how many donuts do you think you could fit on your dick?” I ask with a grin.
“I bet I can fit more than you can,” Trick challenges drunkenly.
I clamber clumsily to my feet and start pulling down as many donuts as I can.
“Dammit, you’re all about to start whipping out your dicks, aren’t you?” Lux sounds so resigned it’s kind of adorable.
“You know we have to know,” I reason, handing each of them a stack of donuts. I try to give Lux some as well, more than the other two guys because I’m optimistic like that. But he waves them off.
Ten is the first one to unzip his pants and pull his dick out. It’s not the first time I’ve seen it, but it looks good every time. He has a Jacob’s Ladder, six barbells lining the underside of his shaft. It’s… uh, let’s just say an interesting ride.
“Pretty sure you’re going to need to be hard for this,” Trick points out.
“Shh, you’re scaring it,” Ten glares at him while he laughs and tears off a piece of one of his donuts to throw, bouncing it off of Ten’s forehead and earning a string of curses and a murderous look.
I, on the other hand, don’t have any problem getting hard at all with Lux sitting right next to me, the familiar smell of his sweat and soap filling my nose, his thigh bumping mine due to how close he’s sitting.
I know he’s straight, but most straight guys would scoot away when their friend pulls out his cock, wouldn’t they?
“Three!” Trick gets up on his knees and brandishes his donut clad dick at all of us to another bout of uncontrollable laughter.
"I got four," I announce, sliding the final one into place carefully, trying not to get too many crumbs in my pubes.
"They keep getting stuck on my JL," Ten complains, crumbling a donut helplessly.
"That means you forfeit and Easy wins," Trick points out.
"Unless Lux wants to come in with a ringer. Come on man, you're like ten feet tall, you have got to have at least a five-donut dick."
I eye him curiously. But to no one's surprise, he doesn't take the bait, just laughing and shaking his head. I guess Lux's cock will have to remain a mystery.
One thing you can say about life on Palm Island— Handjob Island to the locals— is that it’s never without its excitement.