"Damn, Bob, that's not just freakin' bizarre, it's the fucking damndest thing I ever saw." Hank stared at the two figures sitting stiffly on the sofa. "I know you been goin' gonzo since Joyce decided to split on ya, but this..."
He leaned over and rubbed his hand down the cheek of the blonde one. "Damned if that don't just feel spooky. Where'd ya say you got 'em from? My cousin told me about that site on the web where you could get one of those fancy two-thousand dollar ones, the one's made out of the realistic stuff..."
"Believe me, they cost plenty more than a two grand each," Bob smiled. "My uncle near N'awlins made 'em for me."
Hank bent down to get a closer look. "Hell, this one's even got Darla's green eyes." He turned back to Bob, expectantly. "Can I touch their titties?"
Bob chuckled. "Sure, it's not like they're gonna complain." He grinned as his best friend leaned down further and slowly ran his fingers across the top of one of "Darla's" boobs. "Damn, Hank, it's not like she's gonna bite," he laughed.
"Oh, uh, yeah," Hank's face paled a bit. "It's just that it seems so...you know..."
"Realistic?"
Hank squeezed one of her nipples between his finger and thumb. "Well, yeah, that too." He sat down on the couch beside the feminine forms on the couch. "But mainly, like I said before, it just feels kinda spooky, what with how I known 'em both for goin' on twenty years now." He poked a finger into the bouncy firmness around her aureole.
"Geez, Hank, don't be a wimp!" Bob grinned and plopped down on the other side of the couch. He reached over to "Joyce" and slapped at one of her boobies, causing it to flop back and forth a few times. "They don't complain, hell, they don't even show the bruises!"
Hank bit his lower lip and hesitated a moment. "Do they...taste real?"
"Hell, go ahead and try 'em," Bob laughed and got up. "I'll go out back to the truck and get the beer."
The tall Texan adjusted himself nervously on the couch as one eye watched his friend leave the room. His other eye was glued right between "Darla's" slightly open legs. "Damn shame," he whispered beneath his breath as he thought back to growing up with her. "Heck, you practically screwed every guy on the football team in high school." Now she done decided she was a lesbo all along and ran off with her best friend to live in San Francisco with the rest of the fairies. "Good thing Bob seems to be taking it so well, 'cause I done expected both of ya to end up in shallow graves somewhere."
He found his lips five inches from hers before he realized he was actually talking to her. "Damn, you look so fucking real." He glanced once more towards the back door to make sure Bob wasn't looking through the window, then he ran his fingers down between her thighs...
Seeing how he'd only touched two women down there before, Bob wasn't an expert, but "Damned, if that don't feel real," he whispered, then took one last peek at the back window before pressing his lips hard against hers. After a moment, he drew back and brought a hand to his face. "Fucking pathetic, Hank Horton, that's what you are." He practically spat out the words. Then he settled back on the sofa to wait for Bob to get back with the beer.
A few minutes later, Bob shuffled through the screen door with an ice chest full of Lone Star. He sat it down on the kitchen table, grabbed out a few and walked over to the sofa. "Damn, Hank, you've had a hard on for Darla since the seventh grade, I figured you'd be all over her by now." As he handed Hank the beer, he noticed his buddy's face was getting pretty red. "Oh, geez, c'mon, Hank, don't be such a pussy!"
"You know I ain't no pussy, Bob," he took a swig, "it's just that it don't feel right."
