Breaking Up is Hard to Do – Chapter 5 (Gross Alert)

By 8:35pm Brandoil and the dingo are settled are their table in the restaurant and Brandoil has ordered a bottle of wine.

Dingo:  Eyem starving!

Brandoil:  I’m glad you’ve got an appetite.  And I’m just the guy to satisfy it for you.

Dingo:  Wot?

Brandoil:  I mean order anything you want on the menu.  My treat.

Dingo:  Oh, ur sew gud to mee.

Brandoil:  Yeah, I’m good.  Really good.  I’m sure you can remember how good?

Dingo:  (giggling)  Reeeeely gud!

Brandoil pours a full glass of wine for the dingo and a half glass for himself.

Brandoil:  Drink up baby, the night is young and I intend to show you the best time you’ve ever had.

The dingo eyes his half glass of wine suspiciously.

Brandoil:  I’m driving remember?  I’ve got to be a responsible drinker.

Over the next couple of hours the pair polish off entrees, main meals and then dessert.  The dingo matches Brandoil forkful for forkful.  He watches in amazement as she shovels her food in.

Brandoil:  Jesus, you’re insatiable!  (Under his breath)  Let’s hope not just for food.

Dingo:  This food iz reely gud.  Itz mutch betta than that organick shitt eyev been eeting.  Eyll have tu do twu three daye deuce fasts, sew thatz wot?  (counting on her fingers) Ate dayz of deuce?  Noe worriez!

Two hours later Brandoil and a very merry and amorous dingo are on their way to the 10ak Club.

Dingo:  (giggling and trying to put her hand down Brandoil’s trousers)  Come on Brandoily, let mee giv u a hand….

Brandoil:  (trying desperately to drive straight)  Honey, please, I’m driving.  Wait till we get into the club.

Dingo:  (nuzzling Brandoil’s neck and nibbling his earlobe) Eyll bee quik, eye promise.

Brandoil:  If we wait till we’re in the club, we won’t need to be quick.

Dingo:  (sticking her tongue in Brandoil’s ear)  Ur sutch a spoyl sporte.

Brandoil glides into a parking spot for VIPs just outside the club, helps the dingo out of the car and holding her hand, walks confidently to the head of the line of waiting people.  He and his companion are granted immediate entrance.

Inside the club he ushers the dingo to the VIP area and immediately takes her to the dance floor.  Brandoil isn’t bothered by what song is playing, he’s too busy trying to keep his excitement down.  The dingo grabs him by the buttocks and pulls him tightly against her.  He returns the favour and squeezes her tight little arse. 

He knows she’s not wearing a bra, because he can feel her chesticals pressed against his chest.  He doubts she’s wearing panties either because no matter how thoroughly he feels her arse through her skirt, he can’t feel any panty lines.  Not even a thong.

She dances with her legs on either side of one of his, grinding against him.  To take his mind off this, he kisses her, open mouthed, wet, slippery and with tongue.  Lots of tongue.  She responds eagerly.

Inside the club, two men watch with vested interest.  One of them has spent nearly half his Denny’s pay packet on taxi cabs following Brandoil and the dingo around NYC tonight.  The other is carrying a small digital camera and works for In Touch Magazine.

Dingobro sees the reporter take aim with his camera and accidently on purpose shoulder rams him so that the journalist drops the camera.  Dingobro accidently on purpose steps on it and it makes a satisfying crunching noise under his foot.

Journo:  Watch it you clumsy fool!

Dingobro:  Oh, sorrie mayte.  I loste mye footing.  Shitte, it lookz lyke eye broke ur camra.  Sorrie!

Dingobro picks up the smashed camera and hands it the jouralist.

Journo:  I should thump you to within an inch of your useless life for this, fuckwit.

Dingobro:  (shrugging his shoulders)  Geez mayte, eye sed Im sorrie.

The journalist decides he doesn’t have time to waste arguing with the kid, so he simply walks away to see if he can see the action from a different angle.

On the dance floor, the dingo has shoved her arm down Brandoil’s pants and has taken him in her hand.  He has snaked one hand up her shirt and is fondling a dingo nipple with his thumb.

Brandoil:  (speaking into the dingo’s ear)  I just want to take you in my mouth.

Dingo:  Eye just want tu tayk u in mye mouth too.

After some more kissing, groping and fondling, Brandoil and the dingo get back in the car and drive to the Beatrice Inn for more of the same.

They receive the same VIP treatment at Beatrice Inn, but instead of the dancefloor, Brandoil leads the dingo to a booth and they slide in together.  The In Touch reporter slides into the booth behind them.

Brandoil:  So Angel, tell me again why you wanted to see me tonight?

Dingo:  Itz ova with Whorelando, Brandoil.  He duzn’t want anithing tu do withe mee.  At furst it woz reely good.  Hee even begged mee tu hav secks withe himm.  Butt that didnt seem tu laste tu long.  Afta that hee onlee wanted to bee seen withe mee for sett up papp shotz.  Juste to mayk it look lyke wee weer a cupple.  Now hee duznt even want thatt.  Hee findz exkewses for knot turning upp to mye publisitee events.  Eye had wun laste dytch attemt to get himm tu hav secks withe mee in Spayn, butt it woz useless.  Itz lyke hee thinks eye have sillifus, sliffilus, oh, phuck it!  Itz lyke hee thinks eye have a secks dizeeze.  Eye hav to phace facks.  Itz reely finiched betweene uss.

Brandoil:  (teasingly)  But how does that involve me?

Dingo:  (smiling)  Ur my brakeup ghuy, Brandoily.  Eye cann always truste u to bee theer fore me.

Brandoil:  Be where?

Dingo:  (leaning in close)  Beetween mye leggs.  Insyde mee.  Eye want u theer rite now.

In the booth behind them, the In Touch reporter is on his knees, peering over the top of the booth, straining to hear everything that is being said.

He watches, almost mesmerised, as the dingo unzips Brandoil’s pants and pulls his boxers down, then starts to move her head towards his lap.

Brandoil pushes her head away and fixes his pants.

Brandoil:  Not here baby.  Not yet.

Instead he gently pushes the strap of her flimsly top down over her shoulder to expose a dingo chestical, then cups her chestical in his hand and moves in for a deep kiss.

At this, the In Touch reporter recoils and flops onto the table behind him where he appears to have some sort of seizure.  He is ignored by the crowd because they all think he’s had too much powder.  It’s a common occurrence here and nothing to be concerned about.

From another booth, dingobro watches momentarily with unattached interest as the  reporter jumps around convulsively, then moves his eyes back to the dingo and Brandoil.  He is already beginning to formulate a response for the Daily Telegraph for immediately after the rumours of the break up between his sister and Whorelando Bloom hit the presses.

Having much energy to burn and not able to burn it by partaking in her favourite past time, the dingo leads Brandoil to the dance floor, where they move first to the beat of the music, then frantically to their own rhythm, bumping and grinding against each other.

During a slower song, they stand opposite each other, just staring, not moving.  Brandoil raises one hand to her face and with a fingertip he traces her lips, which part invitingly as the dingo gazes at him unblinkingly.  Her moist tongue slips between her lips, curls around his fingertip and draws his finger into her mouth, where she nibbles and sucks on it.  It’s not quite his dick, but for the time being a girl can pretend.

They are disturbed from their reverie by a bouncer.

Bouncer:  I’m gonna have to ask you young people to leave the premises.

Brandoil:  Why?

Bouncer:  You’re distressing the other patrons with your overtly sessusal behaviour.  It’s just not appropriate.

Dingo:  Dont u noe whoo eye am?

Bouncer:  (taking a cursory glance at her)  No ma’am, I don’t.

Dingo:  Eyem a Viktoria’s Seekret moddel.

Bouncer:  (taking another look at her)  You don’t look like Adriana Lima to me.

Dingo:  Eyem Miranduh Kerr.

Bouncer:  Who?  Oh hell, who cares?  You need to leave and if you don’t leave of your own accord I’ll have no choice but to eject you.  Do you understand?

Brandoil:  It’s alright pal  We’re leaving.  Don’t think that we’ll be back here though.  We’ll take our money elsewhere.

Bouncer:  Yeah, we’ll really miss the $27 you spent on drinks tonight.

Brandoil and the dingo get in his car and he pushes the key into the ignition.

Dingo:  Eyem whoreny.  U’ve mayde me wate all nite.  Lets juste hav secks in the carr.

Before Brandoil can say a thing, the dingo has peeled her shirt off over her head, hitched her skirt up around her waist and is straddling him in the drivers seat.  She has her lips pressed firmly against his, her tongue thrusting in to his welcoming mouth.  They both fumble to draw down his fly.

Dingo:  Owch!  The stearing wheele iz stikking into mye bakk.

Brandoil:  Why don’t we move to the back seat? There’s plenty of room there.

The dingo needs no encouragement and she struggles over the front seats in a weird tangle of long and skinny limbs.  She lands on her back in the back seat.  Brandoil climbs into the back of the car and kneels between her legs.  Without time to completely disrobe, he desperately yanks down the zip on his trousers and pulls down the front of his boxers, releasing his throbbing member from the confines of his underwear.

Dingo:  (breathlessly)  Oh Brandoily, don’t mayke mee wate!

She throws one leg up onto the headrest of the drivers seat and the other leg up onto Brandoil’s shoulder, giving him a clear view of the infamous black hole of Australia.

Brandoil:  (desperation in his voice)  I don’t have any condoms.

Dingo:  Phuck condoms, Brandoily.  Whorelando always prakticed sayfe secks.  U wont katch anithing from mee.  Just phuck mee alreddy.  Eye want tu feel yur hot, throbbing memba insyde mee.  Now!

Brandoil needs no further encouragement.  He loses himself inside the vacuum with one quick, urgent thrust which is met with an almost primal cry of pleasure and the sound of a stiletto heel ripping the fabric on the inside roof of the car.

Brandoil:  Goddammit, my insurance just went up again!

Outside late night pedestrians snigger and smirk as they walk past the car and see it rocking rhythmically and hear the cries and moans coming from inside.

Inside the car, the dingo is in all sorts of ecstasy.  Denied secks sex for such a long time, she has already experienced multiple orgasms, leaving her wondering why she ever bothered to have sex with Whorelando, since she always faked it with him.  Brandoil looks likes he’s starting to wilt, but the dingo is nowhere near spent.

Dingo:  Brandoily, oh Brandoily, phuck me, pleez!

Brandoil:  (exhausted)  I am!

Dingo:  Harda Brandoily, fasta, deepa.

Brandoil:  Honey, I’m doing my best.

The dingo is riding the crest of another climax.  She doesn’t think Brandoil can keep on going now.  Maybe if they drive back to his hotel (can’t go to her apartment because her mum is there and there’s no way she’s having noisy and energetic sex with her mum in the next room) he’ll have time enough to recover and be able to go a few more times.  Hell, she’ll steal some of the little blue tablets out of her brothers stash if need be.  She knows what they’re for.  Her brother has been having the loooongest masturbation sessions lately.

Dingo:  Oh Godd!  Brandoily, eyem cumming!  Yess, yeeeeessss!  Brandoily!

Brandoil watches in amazement as the dingo twitches and shudders with pleasure underneath him.  He feels his own pleasure wash warmly over him as he discharges his weapon deep inside of the black hole before he collapses heavily onto the dingo.

Dingo:  (screaming in ecstasy)  Brandoily!

A young couple are walking by the car just before the dingo’s final climax.  They smile and look at each other knowingly until they hear the scream of pleasure.

The young woman gasps and rushes to the gutter where she promptly pukes up the nice meal that her boyfriend paid for a few hours ago.  He lovingly holds her hair back from her face and speaks soothingly to her.

Young man:  It’s alright, sweetheart.  I know it was a shock.

Young woman:  (crying)  It’s just the thought of Brandoil Davis being nekkid and having sex!  Oh, I feel so sick.  Please, take me home.  I just want to go home.

Inside the car, the lovers have dressed and returned to the front seat.  Brandoil turns the key in the ignition.

Dingo:  (sweetly)  Du yu think if wee go bak tu yur hotell and u hav a rest, that wee culd du it all nite longe?

Brandoil:  Jesus, you are insatiable, aren’t you?

Dingo:  Eye havn’t hadd secks in sutch a long tyme.  Eyev missed itt.  And ur soooo gud Brandoil.  Pleez?

Brandoil:  (smiling)  Lets go back to my hotel and phuck all night long.  (under his breath)  This is the easiest $3.98m I’ve ever made.

At The Gramercy Park, Brandoil gives the car keys to the valet then hand in hand with the dingo, walks across the hotel foyer and disappears with her into a waiting elevator.  Upstairs waits a long night of hot and heavy loving.

The Senior Reservations Clerk, seeing Brandoil and the dingo arrive, sighs heavily and picks up the phone.

SRC:  Hello, laundry?  Can you get the kitchen to order you TWO cartons of Dawn Washing Up Liquid.  Brandoil Davis just walked in with Miranduh Kerr.  The two of them are gonna cause an oil slick akin to the Exxon Valdez.

Brandoil Davis has shagged the dingo.  Infact, they’re not finished yet.  The In Touch reporter witnessed their groping, fondling and tonsil hockey.  He’s recovered from his seizure and has gone back to LA to write his story about the break up of the dingo and Whorelando.  Is this what Orly has been waiting for?  Will this be the news story that causes celebrations across the interwebz (except at OLove)?  Stay tuned to see what happens next!