by Ashley Lyn
My hand slides across her overheated skin and grips the side of her panties. The lace cuts into my palm and I pull hard and sharp, ripping them like the thinnest piece of paper.
She gasps, and when I look into her eyes, I see irritation, and I smile. “I’ll buy you hundreds of panties if I can do that daily.”
“Tristan, I…well…” Leaning down, I kiss her as soft as possible as I pull her panties completely off.
“I have my boundaries, babe, I promise. I might seem out of control, but I got this.” Kissing her jaw, and then moving my way slowly down her neck, I kiss both nipples. My hands smooth over her breasts and sides, then down to the tops of her thighs as I memorize the feel and shape of her beautiful body with my hands and lips.
I smile at her panicked face. “Spread your legs, baby.”
I can feel her legs vibrating with tension—the hesitance, the unsurety—and it only fuels my desire.
Sliding down, I kiss the top of her mound, smiling at the moan that escapes her clamped lips. Pulling back her hood, I lay the gentlest of kisses on her clit. I have to push down on her lower belly to control the thrust of her hips. I think it’s a plea for more, but I look at her face to make sure it isn’t a scared escape.
The only thing I see on her face is ecstasy. My tongue snakes out and licks a path from her opening to clit. I have to reach down and grip my cock in a stranglehold to keep from coming as my first taste of her consumes my senses.
Then it’s time to get down to business. I savor every drop of heat that drips from her cunt.
Toes curling and thighs twitching, she’s literally wailing at this point. I latch onto her clit and take her home.
“Tristan!” she screams, and I can’t hold it any longer. I jerk up on my knees, my hand goes to my cock and I start jerking, in time to my finger sliding over her clit, extending her pleasure.
“No!” She starts working herself out from under me, and before I can say a word, her mouth is around my cock, and there are no words to describe the pleasure of her hot little mouth around my dick.
My hand goes to her hair and I grip the strands in my fist. Letting go of my control, I fill her mouth, and I’m momentarily worried because the force of this orgasm would startle a seasoned porn star. I look down and see her mesmerizing blue eyes staring up at me, and I can’t help it, I cup her cheeks and savor the image of her lips wrapped around my cock.
She pulls off and swallows, then one more jerk of my cock has another splash of cum hitting her right on her lips.
This is the single most erotic moment of my life, watching her lick my cum from her lips. Her head goes to my thighs and rests there before flopping to the bed.
I snuggle down next to her, and there really are no words. Neither of us speak, but the moment is cemented in both our brains.
I want to tell her that I love her, and it takes every ounce of my control to keep the words in. It’s too soon, I start chanting in my head. Then I smile when I feel her lips against my side. I could swear she mouths the words that my soul begs to scream. I hug her close and close my eyes and drift off, with the love of my life in my arms.
BECCA
The ringing of my cell phone jerks me awake, and I giggle when I look at Tristan on his belly, spread out like a giant starfish, naked buns there for the taking. I nip his butt cheek as I lean over and grab my phone off the nightstand.
I give a startled squeal when he flips me over on my back and pins me to the bed with his hips. I burst out laughing at the offended look on his face.
“Who is this?” I answer, smiling at Tristan.
“Jake from State Farm.” My lips twitch when Jace answers my question just as I hoped he would.
“What are you wearing, Jake from State Farm?”
“Nothing!”
Well, he sounds happy. “Jace, where are you?”
“I’mghreooeng geg.”
“What the crap?”
“I said God, he smells good.”
“What?”
“I had my face shoved in Bo’s pillow. I’m in my man’s bed, my lover, boyfriend, and inducer of all my future orgasms, Mister Bo.”
“Did he have a nice pecker?” I sigh, “I bet it was super pretty—ow!” Fucking hell. I glare at Tristan and rub my poor abused butt cheek. “Buuuttt, I bet it wasn’t nearly as pretty as Tristan’s.”
“We both hit the cock-pot, like the unbelievable mega jackpot. We’re both getting poked by perfect penis’s.” I laugh at the offended look on Tristan’s face.
“Jace, why did you call, babe? I’m straddling my stud at the moment.”
“You have hair to gussy up today. You told me to call you at nine as your ‘oh shit!’ alarm.”
“Oh shit!”
I scramble off Tristan and misjudge the edge of the bed and face plant on the floor, but I pop up and sprint to the closet.
I yank my skinny jeans up and pull on a random shirt. Tris cracks up laughing, and I look down and laugh myself.
My shirt says, ‘iPoop’.
“Crap.” I pull the shirt off and grab a plain white polo shirt. I’m rushing around the room, throwing my hair into a messy bun, brushing my teeth, and swiping on deodorant.
Tristan jumps up in the outfit God gave him. My train of thought vanishes quicker than panties on prom night. Watching the flex of his back muscles and his sexy bum-cakes is pure fucking poetry. I don’t give a single shit that I’m moaning like a bitch in heat, because when he gets to the bathroom, he turns and faces me, bracing his arms over his head on the entryway above him.
Can men have sexy armpits?
For some insane reason, I’m attracted to that area, from armpit to elbow.
Stick a fork in me. Slap my ass and make me your bitch, my cherry is as good as popped.
“I have a lady boner,” I moan out.
He grins, and I stomp my foot. “Stop it, you sexy beast. I have shit to do today and I can’t get it done with you turning me on every second.”
He runs his hand from his chest, down his sexy belly. “Stop!” I squawk, covering my eyes.
I peek through my fingers and see his hand inching farther south. “Don’t you dare touch that penis!” His hand creeps another inch and I stomp my foot. He just laughs and heads to the bathroom.
“Son of a biscuit, that man is lethal.”
I’m rushing around, gathering up my supplies before snagging my shoes. I’m hopping on one foot into the kitchen, putting on my tennis shoes when I see Tristan in the kitchen, dressed and filling some travel coffee mugs at my Keurig.
He hands me a coffee mug and I grip his shirt, pulling him down for a kiss, then we’re out the door and on the way to the main street.
My entire day is made when he grabs my hand, kisses my knuckles, and rests it on his thigh.
TRISTAN
There’s something oddly arousing about watching your woman put on make-up in your truck. She grabs a black stick and pulls the corner of her eye out, opens her mouth, and swipes a thin black line across her eyelid.
Clearing my throat and adjusting myself, I ask, “What exactly are you late for?”
She does the other side before she answers. “There isn’t any Cheap Cuts or a hair salon close, so I put up fliers advertising that today I would be giving free haircuts on Main Street.”
She tells me where to park and I get out and help her setup the pop-up tent, chair, and a small table for her supplies when folks start to line up.
I pull out a camp chair and crack open a beer. It may only be ten in the morning, but I’m on vacation, something I haven’t done in years.
I have such a giddy anticipation bubbling in my gut. It isn’t even sexual in nature, this is an excitement for life in general.
Something I haven’t experienced since I graduated high school and went off to explore the world. She brings clarity and hope to my world. Life can be whatever you want it to be, and I let my life fall into a rut. I wasn’t even spinning my wheels, I was just idle.
&n
bsp; Sitting around and waiting for life to pull me out of the hole I was in was a dumbass move on my part. Yes, Carter was on a slippery slope at the time, but I could have tried at least to be Becca’s friend, tried to be there for her, in whatever capacity she wanted or needed.
I can play this ‘what if’ game until my head explodes. What if I stayed friends at a minimum with her? What if I said fuck you to Carter’s ‘hands off’ rule? What if, what if, what if?
My dad used to say, ‘Looking back and wondering ‘what if’ only blinds you to the potential of what is ahead.’ I have Carter’s blessing, our relationship is moving forward, so I have all the pieces I wanted in life. The more time I spend looking back, the less time I spend in the now. I’m determined to enjoy what I have now and what I could have.
My lips quirk when a man who can’t be a day over ninety, slowly works his way to Bec. His long, pure white hair is down past his shoulders, and knotted. His beard is down to what would probably be mid-chest if he was capable of standing upright.
His stooped body, when he gets to Becca, is barely up to her shoulders. His khaki pants are hiked up to his nipples, and the plaid shirt has long ago faded and bears holes, allowing his bony elbows to poke through the fabric.
He sits down, and Becca immediately kneels in front of him to ask him what he wants. When he responds, she throws her head back, laughing.
Something pinches, and then settles in my chest at the sight of her unrestrained laughter.
I smile and take a drink of my beer when I sense a presence to my right. I look and my eyes pop wide when I see the woman next to me. The only way I even know she’s female is the small breasts.
She grins at me and winks. “Man, I bet you drop panties like a bear with the shits.”
I immediately look at Becca with wide eyes.
“I’m currently unattached. I’m a big, beautiful woman looking for a sexy stud to ride into the sunset. Should you feel so inclined, I’m on Tinder. My username is BBWmountainlady.”
The man behind the woman laughs so hard he farts, and regardless of the fact that we’re outside, it permeates the air. I lift up my shirt and settle it over my nose.
She could be a linebacker for the Denver Broncos. I’m willing to bet that she’s taller than me, and probably outweighs me in muscle. She looks at the man who laughed and sends him a murderous look.
He shakes his head and points to her with his thumb. “Old Sue here will treat you real nice till it’s time to skedaddle. One minute you’re pulling up your britches, and the next thing you know, your ass is handcuffed to the bed.”
“That was one time, Barney! I thought that was what we agreed on!”
I’m in the twilight zone.
“I’m with Becca.” I point with my beer bottle at Becca, moving around the old man as she talks to him. He smiles at her with a gap-toothed smile, and she shakes her head and says something, which makes him scowl.
She wiggles the clippers in front of him and he crosses his arms, begrudgingly. And that’s when she goes to town, zipping the clippers right down the center of his head.
Barney and Sue are still arguing next to me about agreements, and condoms, and duct tape, and I’m just trying to block them out.
My ringing cell phone has me excusing myself and walking past Becca. I shake my phone at her and she nods before getting back to buzzing the man’s head.
“Hello.”
“Tris, it’s Miranda.”
“What’s up?”
“I ran the name you gave me. I thought you said that she was married?”
“She is, at least that’s what she told…my friend.”
“Negative.”
“Fuck.”
“There are no marriage certificates filed in the United States of American for a Rayleen Ryan Reynolds, DOB 05-16-1983. After her father passed, she inherited Reynolds and Son Shipping. She sold it eleven years ago, and after that, aside from some medical bills, there’s no credit history. She never renewed her driver’s license, opened a credit card, bought a house, registered utilities or opened checking account. There’s jack shit on her.”
On one hand, I’d hoped she was married and happy, but on the other, I was hoping for a failed marriage and single. The disappearing act doesn’t give me warm and fuzzy feelings.
“Reynolds and Son Shipping had been a family-owned company for over a hundred years, and she’d been groomed to take over from the start. College classes, and the fact that she’d been employed there for years will attest to that fact. There’s something else, and I’m not sure if this will be good news or bad.”
“Just spit it out. This whole thing is shaping up to be a shitshow, so lay it on me.”
“Rayleen Ryan Reynolds gave birth to a son. You told me this was for a friend, but you can drop that act right now because the kid’s name is listed as one Kyrian Carter Michelson. The father listed is Carter Michelson. Kid should be ten.”
Sucking in a breath, I squat down and drop my head.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Where is he?”
“Not registered at any school. No medical records, nothing. Just like her.”
“Carter’s going to fucking flip.”
“It’s hard to track down location when there are no footprints. I was calling because I wanted to ask if you wanted me to dig deeper, or if you wanted me to wait until you spoke to Carter?”
“Dig. You dig until your fingers bleed, Miranda. This makes no fucking sense, I knew Rayleen. I knew her, Miranda, and for her to just drop Carter like a hot potato, and then drop of the fucking planet makes no fucking sense. She and Carter had been together for a long fucking time. They were engaged, buying a house, attached to the soul, then poof! She drops Carter and he goes off the fucking rails.”
I look to the beauty of the mountains before me, and then at Becca. “I don’t care how much it’ll cost, just fucking find them.”
“This one is free, this is for Carter.” She hangs up on me, and I’m left reeling.
The pinch in my chest is for a whole other reason this time. A child. Carter has a son. I look at Becca, who’s working on another person, and I immediately think I shouldn’t tell her what Miranda found out, but fucking Jiminy Cricket is telling me that lies, even ones by omission, aren’t a good basis for a lifelong relationship.
Clicking on my contacts, I pull up my parents’ home phone and wait for them to pick up.
“Tris?”
“Dad,” I choke out.
“Talk to me, boy.”
“I got her—the one. She’s in my life, my arms, and my bed.”
“Finally got your head out of your fucking ass with Becca. Grace!” He yells so loud for my mom, I touch my ear, thinking that it’s bleeding.
“My boy finally got his head out of his ass about Becca! Pick up the phone!” I hear Mom pick up the phone, and even though she knows that Dad’s on the phone, she still yells at him like he’s across the house.
“Oh Mylanta! I can finally dig out my Mother of the Groom dress!”
“Woman, you bought that fucking thing thirty years ago.”
“Stuff it.”
“The only thing I’m going to be stuffing is—”
“Dad!”
“Sorry, son,” my dad says.
“Yes, I’m with Becca, but I have an issue.” I keep walking as I’m talking. Coming up to a lake, I sit and stare at the peace of the water.
“Spit it out,” Mom snaps.
“It’s Carter.”
“Becca’s brother? He giving you grief still about Bec?” my dad asks. I hear a shit ton of noise come over the line and look at the phone to make sure I’m still connected.
“Woman, what in the devil are you doing?” he huffs.
“Packing.”
“For what?” I ask.
“We’re coming down. I’ve had to wait six years to meet my daughter-in-law, and I’m not waiting a second longer. Are you bringing your swimsuit? You want your Speedo or those ugly shorts?”
&nb
sp; “Mom!”
“What! Christ, quit yelling!”
I do my best to get them back on topic. “Carter found his soul mate years ago and she left him. Circumstances surrounding her leaving were weird. Carter’s been spiraling for years. I told him I was going to be with Becca and he flipped. We had a ‘come to Jesus’ meeting and I found out what happened with Rayleen. I had my computer person look into it and things are not good, but fishy. Rayleen, Carter’s girl, apparently had a son, and Carter’s listed as the father. I found this out two minutes ago. Do I say anything to Becca, or do I wait for more info?”
Mom sighs, like this should be a no-brainer. “Tell her. She’s your person, Tristan. You concentrate on keeping a secret from her and it will affect your relationship. We, women, are intuitive and can tell when you’re keeping even the smallest of secrets from us. You’re just starting out, and if you keep this from her, you could lose her. No matter if it’s to protect her from something, even if it will cause her pain. I would rather feel a second of a pain than a lifetime of knowing that my partner in life kept something from me. The base of trust in a relationship is built and established in the beginning. You build a relationship with a trust base that’s already weak, it will set you up for a lifetime of distrust.”
“Crap!”
“The best relationships are both difficult and easy. Difficult because you want to shelter your partner from the hard shit, and easy because difficult times are easier because of them,” Dad informs me.
My guts are churning as I listen to their inconsequential conversation about burritos, swimsuits, and hemorrhoid creams. Telling Bec that she may or may not have a nephew and has for ten years has placed a rock in my gut.
By the time I sign off with my folks and make my way back to Becca, Sue is having her hair cut in a Mohawk and is drinking my beer. Becca’s smiling face as she listens to Sue is fucking beautiful. Knowing that I’ll have to destroy her happiness kills me.
