by Tomorrow's Man
Kitchen lights are almost too harsh for something like this, there's no subtlety, no nuance, but I don't have time to get romantic.
I push it in. It's a tight fit, maybe too tight, though. I pull it out again and just hold it in my hands for a second, re-positioning it for another thrust. I think about rubbing butter or something all over it; some lubrication could get it in there more easily, for me at least, though I wasn't sure if it should touch all the way in the back like that.
When I push it in again, the sound of rubber-soled feet bouncing across the countertop is almost exciting -- it's so big that I'm pushing all three of us across the table!
After two or three more thrusts I finally get almost the whole thing in...but it's uncomfortably jutting into the back, and there's still too much pale flesh that simply won't fit in there.
Forget it. I'm running late. I guess I won't be able to microwave the turkey. I'll just bring a cherry pie instead.
Slappy Thanksgiving!