We set it up at my place. Joe and I decided to play repairmen. We had met over the net and seemed to hit it off. So, we made a date for that Friday night. We had found these great painter's coveralls. They zipped up the front, and were made with slits on both sides that look like pockets. These were fun because, they gave you easy access, if you wanted to apply something to the guy's underwear, or dump something down his pants. So, we both wore tight coverallsme dark blue, him dark greenjockstraps, boots, head-rags, and caps. The scene we came up with was that we worked together, but I was always goofing off, talking back, leaving him with all the work to do. Finally, he gets so pissed-off that he just decides to let me have it -- and "The Fight" insues!

Joe and I had bought a ton of stuff. I mean, we really went all out: Twinkies, syrup, soda, and more! Much more! It was going to be fun! I was so happy when Friday finally came.

Everything was set up. When we were finally dressed and ready to go, we went out in the hallway and pretended to be strangers, entering the apartment. I liked the way the tight cotton jumpsuit hugged my torsoand his, for that matter. Joe was Italian, 5' 11", 200lbs, but worked out -- muscled arms, big thighs and ass, dark brown hair, and green eyes. Me -- 195lbs, 6', Afro-Am, brown-skinned, leaner muscled physique, thick thighs and butt, brown eyes, and short black hair. We looked good.

We entered. But, all the lights were out.

-"Hey Kevin," Joe said, where's the fucking TV?"

-"How the fuck should I know, dickhead?' I live here? Probably in the living room,"

I said, "and can we turn on the lights?"

Joe found the light switch momentarily and flipped it on. We were in the kitchen. Apparently, the way the apartment was laid out, to get to the living room you had to pass through the kitchen first. Okay. But before we took another step, I stopped, puzzled by the sight I saw. Laid out on a kitchen counter were 10 to 12 pies! Boston Cream, Banana Creams, Lemon Meringues, Cherryas well as variety of gooey cakes, about 5 or 6.

-"What the fuck?! Yo, Joe!" I said, "What're all these pies and things doing here?"

-"How the fuck should I know, stooge! It probably belongs to whoever lives here.

Maybe they're having a party. Leave it alone and let's get to work."

I have to admit I was intrigued by all the pies, but I let it go. We trundled through house, finally finding the TV. Joe turned the TV around and knelt down before it, ready to work. Which brings me to the major thing that irked me about him. You see, Joe thought he was the boss, but really, he was an ass! He had no real authority and always pretended to know more than he did. Don't get me wrong, he was a nice guyeven sexy. His arms, his butt, and his dark hair being the nicest things about him. But when it came to work, he was an idiot! A muscled, Italian ass-clown in green coveralls. Of course, I did my share of goofing off too. But why he thought he was supervisor was a mystery. Case in point: he couldn't even get the back of the TV open. It was pathetic. He had no idea what he was doing. The more he struggled, the more moronic he looked. I just stood there.

-"Man, fuck these new TV's! Are you going to help me or not?" he yapped.

-"You're the boss," I said, "You're so fucking smart, figure it out."

-"You fucking piss me off, you know that? Your could use a real attitude adjustment!"

-"Yeah, right! Like you're going to do something!" I snapped back.

-"Are you going to help me or not?!"

I yawned and stretched, mocking him.

-"You know what? Kiss my ass, Joe! I'm going to use the bathroom."

I turned and sauntered out. Joe was pissed, but there wasn't much he could do about it. After all, who else was going to save him from his incompetence? Besides, I really had to piss.

As I turned the corner to the bathroom, I got another shock. This sight was more ridiculous than what we saw in the kitchen. More pies! More cakes!! Another 5-10! But, it got better. A bucket full of eggs?! It had to be 7 or 8 dozen. Another bucket filled with little dessert cakes, Twinkies, Ding Dongs, and the like? Two big pitchers brimming with molassas? Three giant bottles of cheap kiddie soda? Several king-sized bottles of chocolate syrup? And bags of flour?! What the fuck were these people into?! And what the fuck was all this stuff doing in the bathroom?

That's when I got an idea, how I could take Mr. Muscle Boy down a peg. How I could get him back for being such a know-it-all, ass-clown all the time. Yes, a little revenge! Strangely enough, the fabric of my jock started to stretch and tent forward. The thought of revenge on Joe was getting me horny. This surprised me. In fact, the more I thought about it, the stiffer I got.

-"Hey, Joe!" I yelled, "Come here!"

-"What the fuck?! I'm busy!" he yelled back.

-"You gotta see this! You won't believe it!"

-"I said I'm busy!"

-"You don't even know what your doing, asshole! These guys have more stuff in here

You have to check it out!"

-"Jeez! Fine!" he said, "What an idiot!"

I could hear him coming. He was still pissed too, mumbling under his breath. Perfect! I picked up a hefty tin of what had to be a chocolate cream. This was going to be good!

-"Where the fuck are you?" he said, coming closer.

-"In the bathroom, you gotta see this."

"See what?"

"This, dickhead!"

With that, just as he got to the bathroom door, I let him have it! Blaaatttt! A chocolate cream pie right in the face! The pie smeared across his coveralls and landed on the opposite wall. I couldn't help but laugh.

-"Yo, what the fuck?! . . . What is your problem?!

That's it!" he said, "I'm sick of your shit!"

-"What's the matter, big man? Can't you take a joke?"

That's when the tables turned.

-"Oh, you like jokes?" he said. "Well, here, here's a joke."

Wasting no time, Joe lifted me by the underarms, and sat me down on a makeshift seat -- a milk crate that happened to be set in the bathtub. I hadn't even realized it was there. The seat was just low enough to put you crotch-level with your opponent. (These people had thought of everything!) "You like jokes?" he said.

Joe grabbed one of the huge bottles of kiddie soda and shook it hard.

-"You like this? Here's a joke!"

He twisted open the soda and liquid shot everywhere. He then proceeded treat me like I was an overall-covered Dixie cup. Joe poured warm sticky liquid down my pants leg, my chest, my hair, and emptied the rest down my back. Tossing the bottle to the floor, he then grabbed a handful of eggs. It was about to be breakfast time! "Had breakfast?" he said. With that, I felt three eggs smash atop of my right shoulder, then three more on my left. I was beginning to think that maybe this hadn't been such a good idea. Several more of his embarrassing projectiles followed. Slime oozed its way down my arms, making a slick cover of my biceps.

-"You still like jokes?" Joe said. "Oh yeah, and one last little payback,"

And before I could react, he had picked up a thick lemon meringue . . Booooffffff!! The pie blasted my face! Cream went up my nostrils, down the front of my coveralls, and landed in my lap with a plop. Okay, that's it, I thought. I'd had enough. I pushed myself onto my feet.

-"Okay asshole!" I said, "Now, it's your turn!"