I was just going to post a photo, and before I knew it I was writing a D/M fic. How the hell?
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MARTIN: Douglas, I was cleaning out some cupboards and I found a box with some old pictures.
DOUGLAS: Oh dear god you didn’t. Martin, not the Martinair hen’s party. Please, tell me you didn’t look.
MARTIN: Well, I did. I didn’t know it was a hen’s do. I mean, I did notice the girls and all the do… ing. Ohmygod don’t tell me one of them was the bride? Did you do a bride? And why were you there in the first place? A hen’s do is supposed to be all girls! Having fun and doing fun things and not doing… you.
DOUGLAS: Martin, I have very vague memories of that night, all I know is that the bride isn’t in any of the, oh well, she’s not in any of the more explicit pictures, I checked that before putting them in that box. I remember kissing her, I kissed the whole lot of them and-“
MARTIN: Okay, so that’s one of my questions answered. Why were you there and how and why turned an innocent hen’s party into… into…”
DOUGLAS: I was invited! Dammit Martin, I was single at the time, and knowing Dutch stewardesses in those days, I was hoping to well, get lucky.
MARTIN: And you got extremely lucky, obviously.
DOUGLAS: I was taken by surprise!
MARTIN: Yes, I have seen that particular photo. You look quite surprised. I mean, who wouldn’t be surprised when seven stewardesses wearing nothing but their red hats-“
DOUGLAS: YES! Stop please. Don’t go describe it, please. Just give me the photos and I’ll go burn them now.
MARTIN: Well,… here you are.
DOUGLAS: That’s just one. Oh, and that’s about how it started. One of the bridesmaids showing off her bare tits and daring me to touch them. I do remember those tits, lovely small firm tits. Hm. But, but where’s the rest?
MARTIN: The other photos are safely locked away.
DOUGLAS: And may I ask why and where?
MARTIN: I’m not going to tell where. Come on Douglas! And why, well, you know about a hundred secrets things about me, and I like having one little dirty Douglas secret.