And a Half
Copyright© 2016 by awnlee jawking
Chapter 3: The Green Man
Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 3: The Green Man - When a man hits rock bottom, salvation comes from an unexpected source. Note that story codes have been used parsimoniously.
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Fiction Fairy Tale Anal Sex
By Saturday night, I had decided my life wasn’t worth living. I couldn’t overtly commit suicide: that would devastate my parents. Instead I decided to make an ‘accident’ happen. I’d read about a man who nearly killed himself by drinking a bottle of Scotch. At my local supermarket I found that they had a special offer on a brand of Irish whiskey I’d never heard of before. Scotch, Irish, what difference would it make? If one bottle wasn’t enough to kill, I needed at least two. Hell, why take chances? I bought five. It wasn’t as though I would need the money any more. The cashier was extremely suspicious and I had to prove I was over twenty one before she’d let me buy even a single bottle.
I made my way to a quiet spot by the side of the river. If alcohol poisoning didn’t kill me, surely I’d get so drunk I’d fall in and drown.
I opened the first bottle and took a swig. I nearly choked as the amber liquid burned its way down my throat. There was no hurry, I had all night, so I waited until the burning died down before I took a second, smaller sip. It went down a lot more easily.
As I continued to sip the whiskey, it started to rain. As it soaked through my clothing, chilling me, the whiskey kept me warm from inside. It occurred to me that if the whiskey and the river didn’t kill me, perhaps I’d die of pneumonia. I giggled at the thought, then took another sip.
I was perhaps halfway down the first bottle when I realised I wasn’t alone. There was a little green man sitting next to me.
“Are you a Martian?” I asked.
“With an accent like this?” he answered, in a rich Irish brogue. “Care to share a drop of that whiskey?”
I had five bottles. I expected two would be enough to kill me. I could certainly spare some for my erstwhile companion. I handed him the bottle and he took a swig.
“Thank you kindly,” he said, “that’s fine stuff. Reminds me of my home country.”
He passed the bottle back and I took another swig.
“Tell me,” he said, “what’s a fine young man like yourself doing out here all alone on a night like this?”
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