by Jesse Jordan
“Chad,” I grumble under my breath, trying to log into my administrative panel. My password fails, and I blink, pissed. “What the fuck?”
Maria comes in, looking over my shoulder at the mess that's been made of my blog page. “Damn... you've been hacked.”
“Yeah, looks like it,” I sigh. “Glad I never did that sex tape the guy who I think hacked me wanted to do. But I can't get into my admin panel to fix it.”
“Whoever hacked you probably changed your password,” Maria notes. “At least, that's what I'd do if I got access to your system. I had a customer whose smartphone was ganked, she said that whoever did it changed her PIN code to totally fuck with it for her. She had to go to her service provider with like, five different pieces of ID just to get them to blank the whole thing and reset the PIN for her. Does your site host do the same thing?”
“I don't know, I can give them a call,” I say, reaching for my phone. “Thanks for the idea.”
“I want to help you interview Brown Boy, I figure the best way to do that is to help you get this site fixed,” Maria says with a smile. “Thank you, it was fun today.”
“You bought the food, so thank you,” I quip back. “Now, pass my apologies along to Teresa, I said I'd help her cook dinner, but...”
“But you've got a website to de-hack,” Maria finishes for me. “No worries, hermosa. I'll make sure if it takes a long time to get with the site guys, we'll keep something ready for you.”
'A long time' ends up being two hours as I call my website host, go through three levels of administration, waiting on hold each time as they wait to get their supervisor, each time giving my security information. At the third one, I finally lose my temper a little. “Listen buddy, I've been on hold with you guys for forty-five out of the last sixty minutes, and for most of the time I've been talking with your company, I've been recounting my name, my birth date, the phone number I used to register my site, and my security question, which by the way, again, the answer is Hawkgirl. Now, are you going to get your supervisor and risk my wrath, or are you going to actually help me fix my damn website?!”
Joey comes into the living room, chuckling as he sets a bowl of rice with some sort of gravy and vegetables down next to my laptop. “Risk my wrath?”
I chuckle, okay that was a bit over the top, and I cover up the mouthpiece on my phone and shrug. “Hawkgirl was my favorite cartoon character growing up, she kicked ass in Justice League. She tended to talk in that sort of language, so it put me in the same mood. Now... oh, you're back? You're going to reset my admin password. Okay, that's a start, now stay here and walk with me through resetting all my pages.”
I can't just reset my website, apparently, my cache was totally shredded by the hackers, whoever did it knew what they were doing. Thankfully I'd saved most my work as documents that I can cut and paste from. Joey sits on the end of the sofa, watching me quietly as I work furiously, copying and pasting my pages back together from data saved on my laptop.
“Remind me, I've got to get an external hard drive to save information if my host isn't going to keep this better,” I mutter to thin air, but Joey just hums, taking out his phone and typing away for a moment before putting it away. “And I might want to get a better host.”
“I understand,” Joey replies, typing on his phone again. My comment frightens Keith, the website server host on speaker who's been on the phone with me, and he squeaks.
“Miss Coates, please, we don't need to be hasty. Here, I'm adding in our Platinum Protection Plan to your website free of charge for the rest of the year. It has a couple of nice features that will allow you to prevent this in the future.”
“Like what?” I ask as I keep cutting and pasting, the main page is almost complete now.
“Eternal page memory for one,” Keith says as he gives me the details.
“There's a chance you might keep my site then, Keith,” I growl, finishing my home page. Great, now on to my biography page, which currently has several crude personal attacks. “If I need to call back, I'll ask just for you.”
I hang up and get back to work, going over every aspect of my site. Joey just stays by me the whole time, reading to Angel when it's time for him to get ready for bed, but other than that not interrupting me as the hours drag on.
The hard part is that, while I have a lot of my work saved as documents, there's still stuff I have to retype from memory. My biography and contact info have to be re-done. However, this time I take the time to save them as documents before I upload them. The clock in the kitchen chimes midnight softly when I finally get things uploaded, and I start the double checking everything, making sure all the pages are working, my hotlinks go where I want them to go, that my layout is exactly like I want it to be.
“Thankfully, my videos are hosted on YouTube under a different password,” I say to nobody, seeing that my interview with Ian is still untouched, although the comments section's become a total cesspool. I delete and disable comments on all my videos until this is figured out, then re-launch my website.
“There,” I huff, leaning back. My eyes burn, and my lower back is killing me from sitting hunched over for so long, the living room coffee table is just a few inches too short for me to sit comfortably. “Now let's double check social media.”
My Instagram is good, I'd made sure to list all my things as comments restricted, but Facebook's a total quagmire. The hackers were smart, instead of spamming my actual page they spammed each of my posts. Now, I have to go through each of the posts one by one, editing and deleting them as I go. It's nearly two by the time I get it locked down again, and I stretch my shoulders both popping. I look around, and see that Joey's stayed by my side, a book in his hands as his head's fallen back, snoring lightly in the light that the lamp next to the sofa throws.
I watch him quietly, moved by his dedication, and at the same time, I'm pissed off, not at him but at the situation. After the time at the museum, and the way things went last night at the Marine Corps Ball, all I've wanted is to find some private time with Joey, to make love with him again. Instead, we got home at two or three in the morning, crashed, and now it's two in the morning again, and I can barely keep my eyes open.
Still, I need him this morning, even if we can't make love. I shake Joey's shoulder gently, and he moans before his eyes flutter open, and the first thing he does is smile. “Finished?”
I nod, yawning before smiling. “Just now. I'm sorry I wrecked our evening.”
Joey shakes his head and sits up. “It's okay. So, what now?”
I bite my lip and take his hand. “Can I... can I sleep with you? Not sex, just sleep?”
Joey nods sleepily, getting to his feet and leading me to the garage. The heating sucks here, and even though it's Southern California, at two in the morning the garage is chilly here a week before Thanksgiving, but that's okay. The bed is soft and the blanket is thick, and when Joey gathers me into his arms, both of us still in our t-shirts and clothes from earlier, the warmth of his arms and body comforts me as I drift off to sleep.
Chapter 16
Joey
Waking up, I'm in a fantasy world again, feeling Andrea snuggled against me. She's snoring lightly, her head resting on my arm as she sleeps deeply. I let her sleep, taking my arm out carefully and whispering in her ear when she groans and shifts around, her hands reaching for me. “I'll be back in a moment, I just gotta pee.”
“Mmm-hmmm. Love you,” Andrea mumbles before dropping back off, snoring again even before I cross the room and go into the kitchen. Mama's there, dressed for church, sipping a coffee before she gets ready to leave.
“Good morning, Joey,” she says softly as I close the door. “Did Andrea finish her website repairs?”
“Yes, Mama. It took her until about two in the morning though. I thought I'd let her sleep more.” I feel weird that Andrea slept in my room, but at the same time, I don't. It's where she belongs if that's where she wants to be. Mama sips her coffee, and I leave the kitchen
to go use the toilet, coming back just as she finishes her cup.
“I'm going to go to Mass, Maria is taking Angel with her to a babysitting job. Apparently, someone has tickets to the Rams game today.”
I nod, reaching out to hug Mama. “Okay, Mama. When you get back, how about we work on the last of the paperwork together? There can't be much left.”
“Just some of the last of the inspection papers. With the changes we made to the garage, I need to update some of that,” Mama says. “You're a good boy. Enjoy your time with Andrea, I hope she sleeps well. And I was thinking, if she'd like, maybe it would be okay if she shares your room? We can use that back bedroom as a full-time office then. Or maybe Angel would like his own room instead of sharing with Maria all the time.”
I nod, hugging Mama tighter. “You're a wonderful woman, Mama. We'll see what Andrea wants to do.”
Mama leaves for church, and I check in on Andrea, who's still sleeping peacefully. I want to go to her, but I know if I do I'll probably wake her up, and she needs rest. Instead, I leave the door open and turn around, going to the kitchen where I find the flour, baking powder and butter, and I start making biscuits. I don't get a chance to make these often, my family normally eats Puerto Rican or Mexican food, but for some reason, I'm motivated to make buttermilk biscuits for Andrea. While they're baking, I can mix up some sausage gravy, I know I have some good sausage in the fridge right now.
I feel good kneading the dough, working in the chilled butter chunks, putting the cut pieces of butter back into the fridge to stay firm while I work them in piece by piece. When I'm done, I roll the whole thing out to an even piece and use a knife to cut the dough into six roughly equal rectangles. Not quite good enough for a restaurant, but it should taste good.
I hear Andrea stir just as I get the sausage going, the fat rendering out so that I can mix it into a good gravy, taking the time to mix the pork fat with another chunk of butter before making a roux base with some flour, then adding milk. It's better with cream, but I just need to reduce the gravy down longer to make it thick enough. Just as I turn the heat down to low to let the gravy do its magic on its own, I feel a set of gentle, loving hands wrap around my chest and a warm head on my back. “Are you making me breakfast in bed?”
“Only if you go back to bed,” I joke, Andrea, hugging me tighter. “Or not.”
“Thank you. I love you, and last night, staying up with me while I was going nuts... you're amazing.”
I push away from the stove and turn around, hugging Andrea closely. “You're amazing. By the way, Mama was wondering if you'd like to share bedrooms with me, she says that your room might be better for Angel to have his own space.”
Andrea smiles, purring. “And what do you say?”
“I say that waking up this morning, I could see the future. Many, many mornings with you right where you were, snoring the way you were.”
Andrea stands up on her tiptoes and kisses me, her tongue sneaking out to taste my lips and I open up to her, pulling her closer. We both wanted to last night, I'm sure of it, and now we've got the whole house to ourselves, and we're well-rested. I reach back and fumble for the stove and oven controls, Andrea letting go when she realizes I could hurt myself. “I'll just turn it all off. The biscuits can finish cooking and stay warm right where they are, and I can finish the gravy off later.”
I take Andrea by the hand, leading her back into the bedroom where we kiss again, hungrier now for more than biscuits and gravy. I lift her shirt up, slipping my hand underneath her bra to massage her breast even as she massages my cock through the light sweatpants I changed into last night. “Joey... mi amor...”
“You're sexy when you speak Spanish,” I tease, lifting her shirt up. She raises her arms over her head and I pull it the rest of the way off, devouring her beautiful breasts as soon as they're free and open to my eyes. I love her nipples, the way they grow tight and hard under my tongue and the sounds she makes when I suck hard, biting gently and licking the tangy taste of last night's sweat and essence from her skin. We fall onto the bed, our arms wrapped around each other as I keep licking, reaching for the button on her jeans to push them down her legs.
When I start to kiss down her body to her stomach, ready and willing to lick her tender pussy, Andrea shakes her head, grabbing my hair. “No, Joey. Not this time. I have something special in mind.”
“What?” I ask, seeing the gleam in her eyes. She's turned on, and she's feeling friskier than I've ever seen her, it's powerful and beautiful.
“Go into the kitchen, get the little bottle of olive oil and a dishtowel. Come back while I get ready, and I'll tell you,” Andrea says, smiling. “I promise, it'll be fun.”
I nod and get up, my cock making my sweats stick out ridiculously, but I don't really care as I walk into the kitchen and get the olive oil. I wonder what she wants it for? A massage? Sexy, I could spend hours just rubbing the golden oil into her flawless skin, but from the naughty look on her face, I don't think that's what she has in mind. I turn and go back to the garage, stopping when I see Andrea on her hands and knees, her ass in the air, smiling over her shoulder at me. “Andrea?”
“Can I tell you a story? Chad.... when he got me drunk, he got me to do some pretty freaky things. And I hated them. Not because of how they made me feel, but because of who I was doing them with. Joey, I want to feel pure about it all, and I want to give everything to you. So, I'm wondering... I believe the word is culo?”
I nod, shocked. It's not that I haven't ever wanted to, and Andrea's ass is amazing, but I'm... “My love, I'm a virgin in this.”
Andrea smiles and sits back, showing me just her back as she turns around, her breasts caught between her arms as she folds her hands in her lap and looks at me with love and devotion on her face. “Then I need to ask properly, don't I? Joey... I love you, and I want to give everything I have, everything I am to you. It would be a great honor to me if you would let me give this to you.”
I go over to the bed and kneel, kissing Andrea's plump lips. “Andrea, I love you too, with all my heart and soul. And if this gives you pleasure, I have only one request. I want to look in your eyes and have you on your back when I do this.”
Andrea smiles and shifts, laying back down and spreading her long, beautiful legs, her pussy gleaming with arousal as she shows herself to me. She raises her hips a little, and I can see the pink puckered bud of her asshole, inviting and so impossibly tight. How am I supposed to fit my cock in there, won't I tear her open or hurt her? Andrea seems to read my mind and takes my hand, putting it on the warm lips of her pussy and gasping lightly.
“You won't hurt me, Joey. First, take a little bit of oil and rub in around there, while my fingers take care of my pussy. It'll help relax me, and when you're ready, just slip a finger inside.”
I nod, uncapping the olive oil and drizzling a little on the cleft of Andrea's pussy, watching as it trickles over her skin. Andrea smiles, rubbing it around her pussy until her lips gleam and she's moaning softly, the oil running deeper between her legs to dip into her ass crack. I reach down, running my fingers over this most taboo of areas, shocked at the smile that spreads on her face as my middle finger finds her hole and I start rubbing. She mewls like a kitten, her hips shimmying as I rub carefully, putting slightly more pressure as I feel her relax, and suddenly the tip of my finger slips in, and I stop, surprised at how easy it was. Andrea was right, this is fun. Sexy and intimate and fun.
“A good start, my love. Now, just like if you were fingering me, go nice and slow, adding oil when I start to feel a little dry or tight. Remember, there's no such thing as too much oil right now,” Andrea moans, her fingers still rubbing her pussy, a blush starting on her chest and working up her neck as I slide in deeper until I'm fully finger-fucking her ass, her eyes rolling up as she clenches around my finger and I realize she's coming on my finger. “Joey... oh God yes.... mmmm, you're a natural at this.”
When she loosens up a little I add my ring finger, her
breath catching at first but I remember what she said, going slow until her ass relaxes enough and I slide in, filling her even more until both of my fingers are deep in her ass, pumping in and out slowly. My cock is hard as steel at how naughty this feels and I lean down, kissing Andrea's upturned lips as her lust-drunk eyes look into mine, she's so lost in what I'm doing. “I love you, Andrea.”
“I love you... please Joey, I need your cock,” she moans, biting her lip as her body starts to clench again. I watch in amazement as she comes a second time, the flush in her chest turning deep pink and her eyes fluttering shut for a moment before she opens them again, looking me in the eyes. “Please... one more time, with you inside me. Fill me with your cock.”
I nod, taking my fingers out and realizing what the dishtowel was for. I wipe my fingers clean and push my sweatpants off, my cock already oozing precum as I lube it up with the olive oil and get myself ready. Andrea's asshole has slipped mostly closed, but her fingers haven't stopped at all as I push her knees farther back towards her shoulders, bringing her ass better into alignment with me. “Andrea... are you ready?”
She nods, still smiling as I start to push. Her ass resists at first, and I'm worried I'm hurting her when suddenly her asshole relaxes again and I slide in, the head of my cock gripped tightly by the tight ring of her muscle. Andrea nods and I push in deeper, my cock gripped in a tight warm embrace it's never felt before. “What do you think?”
“I think you're perfect,” I whisper, relishing the feeling of my cock sinking into Andrea's tight, heavenly ass. I add a little more olive oil as I pull back, pushing in one more time to the hottest, most mind-blowing feeling in my life as her ass encircles my cock with the sexiest, kinkiest sensation I could imagine. “Andrea... my love...”
“Take me, Joey. I'm yours,” Andrea moans, her fingers not stopping as I start thrusting in and out of her ass. I can't believe it, this is the most beautiful, hottest woman I've ever known and I'm all the way into her ass, a fantasy that I've never imagined would happen. Andrea's perfect, intelligent, and smart, strong, tender, and loving, but also showing me a naughty, kinky side of her that stirs the deepest animal instincts inside me. She's whispering dirty, naughty things as my cock spreads her ass open over and over, the image of our glistening skin burning my brain it's so hot. I've never been this hard and I'm just thrusting faster and harder, my balls aching with the load that's building inside me.
