“Oh, tell me more! Alex is a strapping young lad, I bet he never watches Mister Ed.”
Noel makes a choking cough sound and Bev pats her on the back.
“Actually, Alex and I broke up and this is exactly why,” she states, pointing to her crotch.
As much as I want to cover my ears and run from the room, I really do want to know what happened between her and Alex so I can help my friend out. Even though I managed to get him showered and out of the apartment earlier, he went right back to curling up in his recliner and making a call to Lenny to bring him more wings as soon as I dropped him back off at his place.
“Ahhhh, so your vagina just wasn’t cutting it, huh? Had one too many poundings and now it flops around in the breeze? Totally understandable,” Aunt Bobbie says with a sympathetic nod.
“Who has the sloppy twat now?!” Noel adds, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at Scheva.
“If you twits don’t stop talking about twats, I’m gonna go get my gun!” Reggie yells.
“Sorry, Mr. Holiday, you might want to plug your ears for this,” Scheva says with a shrug before turning to glare at Aunt Bobbie and Noel. “For your information, I have a yeast infection and it’s all Alex’s fault.”
She pauses to scratch between her legs, letting out a contented sigh while I try not to throw up in my mouth.
“How exactly is that Alex’s fault?” Noel questions.
“He had a sinus infection and a cold last week. He was going downtown and he coughed. Right into my vagina. Obviously he gave my vagina his germs, that’s why I have a yeast infection, and that’s why I can’t be with him anymore.”
No one says a word for a few seconds while Scheva continues to scratch her crotch like a dog with fleas.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not how yeast infections work. And I’m pretty sure you broke up with him because he was getting too serious and it freaked you out,” Noel adds, finally saying something I can work with.
“Honey, who are you calling?” Bev suddenly asks as we all turn toward Reggie to see him pull his cell phone out of his pants pocket and start pushing buttons.
“I’m calling the men in white coats to take me away. You all have lost your damn minds and you’ve taken me with you. Sam, if you have half a brain in that head of yours, run. RUN, DAMN YOU, RUN!” Reggie shouts.
Figuring I can come back to the Scheva and Alex problem later, I realize I need to change the subject before Scheva starts rubbing herself on the arm of the couch and Reggie really does get his gun and opens fire.
“Actually, I kind of like the ice sculpture idea,” I quickly tell the room, hoping Noel doesn’t want to kill me. “Some of the ideas the last few months have been a bit much, like hiring a skywriter to fly overhead and spell out our names in smoke, building a hedge maze in the backyard and conducting the ceremony inside of it, or saying our vows in a hot air balloon. But an ice sculpture? I can get on board with that. They’re kind of cool.”
Bev claps her hands excitedly and looks at Noel.
“See? The ice sculpture is brilliant! Your father’s thumb has finally recovered from that silly little accident carving the American Flag into the tree stump for the Fourth last year, so it will be perfect!” Bev explains.
“Silly little accident?” Noel scoffs. “He nicked an artery almost bled out all over the carving.”
Reggie snorts. “It was just a flesh wound. And I didn’t have to go out and buy red paint to color the flag when it was finished. That’s a win all around. If Sam here can pinky-swear he won’t touch your carton of milk before the wedding night, I’ll carve you up something nice and pretty, free of charge. And by free of charge, I mean I won’t cut off his dick while he sleeps.”
I swallow nervously and try not to piss my pants when he gives me a side-eye glare. Ever since Noel brought me home for Christmas to pretend to be her boyfriend and meet her family, Reggie has threatened my manhood and referred to Noel’s vagina as every kind of milk product he can think of. Something to do with buying the cow when you can get the milk for free. I usually ignore him, but ever since we got engaged, he’s gotten more hardcore with his intimidations. It almost makes me want to tell him about the problem I’ve been having so he knows that isn’t an issue. But then I’d have to also reassure him that regardless of my problem, his daughter has been completely satisfied every time, and I’d like my dick to remain in my pants and attached to my body, thank you very much.
“No ice sculpture,” Noel states again, glaring at her mother.
“Come on, what’s the harm in a little carved block of ice? I bet Reggie could make a really nice swan holding a heart or something. I’ll supervise your dad and make sure no appendages are cut off,” I reassure her.
“There will be one appendage cut off if you’ve been dipping your stick in strawberry Yoplait. That ice sculpture will look like a crime scene, mark my words,” he whispers to me under his breath.
“See? Sam likes it. We want to make Sam happy, don’t we?” Bev asks Noel.
“You think my brother, Alex, and Aunt Bobbie will allow an ice sculpture to remain standing all night?” Noel asks casually, having no clue that I’m now imagining Reggie holding my bloody dick in his hand and beating a block of ice with it. “You don’t think one, or all of them, will start daring each other to pee on the thing to melt it faster? Or in the middle of cutting the cake we’ll look over to find one of them flailing all around with their tongue stuck to the swan’s ass, reenacting the flag pole scene from A Christmas Story?”
Now that she mentions it, I can guarantee that’s exactly what will happen.
“Right, so no ice sculpture,” I mutter in agreement with a nod of my head.
“Okay, that’s fine. Whatever you want, dear,” Bev tells me sweetly.
“I agree. Whatever makes you calm and happy, Sam,” Aunt Bobbie states.
“Now you got my hopes up and I want to carve an ice sculpture,” Reggie complains.
“It’s okay, honey, you can still practice on the ice when it gets here. Won’t that be nice?” Bev asks.
“What a great idea, Mom!” Noel concurs with a big smile. “It will all be nice and happy! Dad can still play with a chainsaw and ice, and Sam won’t have to worry about prying someone’s tongue off of a swan’s ass.”
“And I promise not to pee on the ice you practice with, everyone wins!” Aunt Bobbie announces.
“Are we in the Twilight Zone?” Reggie whispers close to my ear. “One of us is about to get stabbed. They are never this agreeable.”
I nod in confusion and a little bit fearful of the three women as they huddle together, giving each other hugs while aiming creepy smiles in our direction.
“This is what Bev used to do back in the day when Lucifer’s Waterfall was upon us every month,” he continues quietly. “She’d get me all docile and relaxed, and then BAM! She’d whittled a shiv out of a spatula and had it against my neck because I left the toilet seat up.”
“Oooooh, don’t do that. Or put the lid down. Apparently they don’t like that either,” I tell him.
“What are you, homeless? No one puts the entire lid down,” Reggie scolds, giving me another side-eye glare.
“Okay, I need to finish getting dinner ready,” Bev announces, walking across the room and dodging all the boxes before stopping in front of me to rub my arm. “No Mason jars, no chalkboards, no birdcages, and no ice sculpture for people to pee on. Whatever Mister Ed wants, Mister Ed gets.”
“Jesus H. Rocky Road, not that damn horse again,” Reggie grumbles with a shake of his head. “I thought we stopped obsessing about that horse years ago?”
“WE WILL STOP TALKING ABOUT MISTER ED WHEN MISTER ED CAN WIN A RACE!” Bev shrieks. “Mister Ed is in charge of carrying on our family name, Reggie.”
With that, she pushes between us and heads to the kitchen, while Noel, Aunt Bobbie, and Scheva busy themselves moving boxes against the walls so people can actually walk through the room without tripping.
r /> “That’s my cue to go hide all the spatulas,” Reggie sighs as he turns and follows Bev into the kitchen, leaving me alone with the three remaining unstable women.
Maybe now isn’t the best time to talk to Noel about our problem. We still have a month of arguing with her mother about wedding arrangements to worry about, and now I have to figure out how to break it to Alex that Scheva got spooked because he got too serious. Maybe if I’m lucky, this little problem will just work itself out soon. It’s not like Noel is too worried about it, she knows it’s not going to last forever. She’s too stressed about the wedding to worry about something little like this. I’ll just make sure to do whatever I can to keep her calm and to keep giving her as many orgasms as I can to take her mind off of things.
Like Aunt Bobbie said, everyone wins.
5
Two Girls, One Fist
Noel
As much as I didn’t want to, I tried to keep Sam at my parents’ house as long as possible. After dinner, we went over the guest list with my mother for the tenth time. It took all of the strength I had to remain calm and not scream at her that we didn’t even know two-hundred people and she needed to find a way to cross off at least a hundred and fifty of the names and addresses she’d scribbled on notebook paper. Just because she met someone one time and had a conversation with them in the check-out line of the grocery store, did not mean they needed to be invited to the wedding. She almost started crying when I told her June, the cashier at Macy’s, was the first to go from the list. I am not a calm person. I like to argue and with my family, arguing is what we do best. Every time my heart started beating faster with the need to scream my head off that Mr. Yoder, the Amish man who built their barn last summer, is not considered a close family or friend, I just had to take one look at Sam and remind myself to take a deep breath and not cause a scene.
Thankfully, aside from my father, everyone else took their cues from me and politely smiled and agreed with whatever I said. My father just continued to bitch and moan about how Mister Ed was the dumbest television show ever and I would quickly change the subject to something else before Sam realized Mister Ed had something to do with him.
I’m officially the worst fiancée in the world to keep him around my insane family until an ungodly hour instead of taking him home as soon as my father snatched the glass of milk out of his hand at dinner and pointed his butter knife at Sam’s crotch. I didn’t know what else to do. Sam started getting that look in his eyes halfway through dinner. You know the one. Where no matter what you say or do, it turns your man on and he suddenly can’t stop rubbing your thigh under the table and winking at you.
Normally, all of this would have me grabbing his hand and running for the door, but I was in a panic. Instead of being happy that the love of my life can still get turned on even when my father is waving a knife at his penis and my mother is complaining about Mr. Yoder and his ten family members being upset about not being invited to the wedding, all I could think about was how stressed Sam would be if we got back home, tried to have sex, and he couldn’t finish. The only thing I could think of to avoid that stress, was to just not have sex with Sam. To suffer through hours and hours of listening to my mother talk about more stupid ideas instead of being alone with him. I figured if we got home late enough, he’d be too tired and remember he needed to be up early for work tomorrow morning and that would be that.
At midnight, Sam officially had enough, grabbed my hand and dragged me out the door. I figured my plan worked when he was quiet the whole ride home and assumed he was just too exhausted to speak, until we got in the house. He kicked the door closed, lifted me up against him, and shoved my back into the wall right next to the door.
It seems like wedding planning is yet another item I can add to the list of things that turns Sam on. How in the hell am I supposed to deny him when he keeps telling me that he loves me and he can’t wait to marry me? Obviously, I can’t. Especially when he drops to his knees, yanks my jean shorts and underwear down in one quick motion, and then buries his face between my legs.
I forget all about wedding planning chaos and Mister Ed finishing a race when his tongue swirls around my clit. My head thumps back against the wall and I close my eyes, clutching onto the back of his head as my hips thrust up to meet his mouth.
He hums as he sucks my clit into his mouth, the vibrations from his lips making incoherent sounds fly from me, and my hips move faster against him. His tongue flicks quickly back and forth and I forget about everything, including my own name. When he slides two fingers inside me, curling them upwards when they’re as deep as they can go, I can at least remember his name. I start softly chanting it as my legs begin to shake and my pussy starts to tingle with my approaching orgasm.
Sam flicks his tongue faster and faster, pumping his fingers in and out of me, and I come in record time, holding his head against me as I ride the wave of pleasure pulsing through me. Before my release is barely finished, Sam is back up on his feet, scooping me up into his arms and carrying me over to the couch with my shorts and underwear still dangling from my ankles. I’m in such a lust-filled, post-orgasm haze that nothing else matters but having him inside me. A spark of hope that this will be it, this will be the night his problem finally ends, has me clutching at him like a mad woman as soon as he puts me down on the couch and covers me with his body. I shove his hands away from his zipper and unfasten his pants on my own, pushing them and his boxer briefs down just far enough so I can wrap my hand around his penis and pull it out while he closes the distance between us and kisses me.
He moans into my mouth as I tighten my hold on him and slide my hand from base to tip, over and over until it’s his turn to shove my hand out of the way. He’s so big and hard, and as he lines the head of his cock up against me, I know he’s definitely going to finish this time. The skin of his dick was so tight around him when I held it in my hand that it felt like it was two seconds away from bursting. I wrap my arms around his waist and grab his ass, lifting my hips and pushing the lower half of his body down at the same time.
Thanks to how wet I still am from my orgasm, he easily slides right in and we groan in unison at how good it feels. His mouth never leaves mine, our tongues moving against each other as he starts pumping his hips, hard and rough, slamming his cock inside me. The thrusting of his hips are erratic and fast, and I love every minute of it, knowing he’s lost all control and just wants to take everything I have to give him.
It’s all so hot and romantic. Until it isn’t.
Yep, you guessed it. Fifteen minutes later, he’s still powering away between my legs and I’m trying not to wince with each push and pull of his cock, in and out of my now Sahara-like vagina. He stopped kissing me five minutes ago and buried his face in the side of my neck where I can now feel a trickle of sweat dripping down from his heavy panting. Instead of reassuring him that everything is fine, that he can stop and it’s no big deal, I do what any insane woman would do. I try out another idea, given to me by my soon-to-be ex-best friend.
While he’s preoccupied breathing fire against my neck and growling angrily each time he drives into me, I take one hand off of his ass and blindly reach down to the floor next to the couch, grabbing my shorts from where I kicked them off. Using the tips of my fingers and trying not to make any sudden movements, I find the pocket where I shoved my cell phone and pull it out, making like I’m wrapping my arms back around him while I press the button to light up the screen and click on my web browser.
“Yeah, that’s it. Just like that,” I mutter to him in my most erotic voice as I click on the Google bookmark I saved when I went to the bathroom at my parents’ house after dinner.
Sam starts kissing my neck and I moan in approval, thankful that he has no idea I’m moaning because I’m happy the wifi at our house is working and the link pulls up with no problems.
Hitting play on the video box on my screen, I bring my hand between us and angle the phone toward his face as he kisses his wa
y up my neck and pauses with his lips on my chin when the crappy music starts playing.
Sam pulls his head back and looks at my phone in confusion, the thrusting of his hips almost slowing down completely.
“Shhhhh, it’s okay. Keep going and just watch,” I tell him, lifting my hips and urging him to keep moving.
He’s now stopped fucking me completely and he lifts himself up on his elbows, giving me a puzzled look. I wave the screen at him to get his attention back to it and instead of nodding his head in understanding, he just looks back and forth between my face and my phone as the grunting and gasping coming from it gets louder than the shitty music playing in the background.
“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” I whisper softly, trying once again to lift my hips up to him to get him to start moving again.
I deserve a God damn medal when I manage to keep the sexiness in my voice instead of screaming in pain when that movement doesn’t make his dick slide back home. Oh, no. There’s no sliding going on because there’s no wetness going on. I imagine this is what it feels like to be fucked by a Yeti with a dick covered in fur. There’s no give, no easy glide of one body part into another; there’s just the feeling of trying to shove something hard and dry into something soft and equally dry. The lips of my vagina fold in on themselves around his dick as I thrust upwards and try to keep the sultry smile on my face.
“What is happening right now?” Sam mutters, glancing at the screen when loud sounds of slurping and wet slapping echo through the phone.
Letting go of the hold I have on his ass with my free hand, I run my palm down the side of his face soothingly.
“Shhhh, don’t fight it. Just keep going. You like watching two girls getting it on, don’t you? Yeah, that’s hot. You better hurry up, there’s some fisting about to happen at the two-minute mark,” I whisper encouragingly, taking one for the team as I push my hips up to meet him again.