Big Gun

by Dani Stowe

  I look Camilla up and down once more; I move closer to her and reach for her nightgown, yanking lightly on the bottom. “Can you adopt me, too?” I ask.

  “That’s not funny,” she says, but she’s still smiling until she squints. “Gunner, your eye looks really bad. It’s swollen shut. You should probably put some ice on it.”

  “I’m sure if you kiss it, that’ll make it better.”

  Camilla sighs. “You’re drunk.”

  “Yeah, a little bit,” I smile.

  “I know what you’re trying to do, Gunner, and you can’t stay here. I have kids. But why don’t you come inside and we’ll put some ice on your eye and I’ll call you a cab. Just be quiet,” she whispers with a strain to her voice to exaggerate the command as she turns, leaving the door open.

  I’m in.

  I follow her to the kitchen—it’s a fucking mess. There are crayons and markers and papers everywhere. There are bowls of various sizes filled with buttons and cereal and Legos. Somebody needs to clean this up.

  She needs me.

  Camilla pulls a tiny red shirt off her costly cream-colored chenille dining room chair that has been stained with tomato sauce and tosses the shirt to the ground. I take a seat as she walks over to the freezer and I see an open container of Pringles on the table. I pick it up and shake it. It’s still full. These chips will be stale by the morning and that’s a damn shame; every kid needs to be taught to keep Pringles covered.

  These kids need me.

  Camilla grabs an icepack. “I’m sorry it’s such a mess. I’m still trying to figure out how to take care of everything, especially the kids, by myself. It’s funny,” she continues, “the two of them don’t always get along, but when they do, that’s when they really—”

  “Fuck shit up,” I interrupt.

  She laughs hard. “I guess I owe you for that motto.”

  “Shh,” I tell her, “keep it down. We don’t want to wake them up.”

  Camilla nods as her face turns serious and she leans in to put the icepack on my eye.

  “Does it hurt?” she asks.

  “Yeah,” I say, but it doesn’t hurt as bad as watching her take care of me in her pink nightgown. It’s not just my eye that needs a cold pack.

  “Ow!” I say as she presses the icepack to my eye and I close both eyelids.

  “This looks bad,” she admits. “What in the world were you fighting about?”

  “You,” I say and I hear her gulp.

  “I know there’s a lot of talk about me,” she sulks, “and I’m sure word has spread about us, but you don’t need to defend me, Gunner.”

  “I’ll defend you until the day I die,” I tell her. “You’re the one thing I’ll always fight for.”

  The icepack comes off my eye and I hear a clunk on the floor. I believe Camilla has dropped the icepack and I feel a tug at the front of my waist. I open my eye and look down to see Camilla has undone the button to my jeans and is unzipping my fly.

  “Say that again,” Camilla commands.

  I take a deep breath and gaze at her with one eye. “I’ll always fight for you.”

  Camilla’s lips come at me and she kisses me hard. Her kiss is fumbling across my face; I sense she is taking down her panties and I feel her hand dig for my cock, which she pulls out through the fly of my boxers. My dick quickly hardens in her hand and she hikes up her nightgown, just high enough for her to maneuver over my legs and straddle over me.

  She tugs up on my T-shirt and I lean forward to help her pull it off. As my shirt slips over my head, it catches my eye.

  “Ow!” escapes my mouth and Camilla reaches in to give me a quick kiss—and keep me quiet.

  “I’m sorry,” she laughs.

  “Shh. It’s okay,” I say and I reach to cup her face and pull her lips back to mine.

  As we kiss, my hands wander to the back of her thighs and as my fingers slide up her legs to grab a hold of her ass cheeks; Camilla slides her pussy down over my long hard cock and she starts to ride me.

  I’m so in.

  I cup the bottom of her ass cheeks to help her move up and down. She’s so short; I can tell she’s having a hard time on the tips of her toes.

  “Ah!” she yelps and it’s a little loud. I’m sure my dick is getting too deep with her on top and I don’t want her to wake the kids.

  “Get up,” I say, tapping on her ass.

  “What? Why?” She looks confused and disappointed.

  “Let’s go to the couch.”

  She gets up and I pull her by the hand over to the living room, which is just as messy as the kitchen. I pull a bright yellow Tonka truck and raggedy doll off the seat cushions and help Camilla sit down.

  I slip off my jeans and boxers as Camilla starts to pull up her nightgown.

  “Leave that on,” I tell her and she gives me a curious look, but she does as I say and pulls it back down.

  I get on my knees between her legs and yank her forward so her ass is at the edge of the cushion. She reaches to run her hands over my chest and abs and I lift the nightgown to peek at her pussy.

  My eyes wander to the top of the gown and I pull it down on one side to expose her tit, which pops out at me like it’s welcoming me back to the castle.

  I grab Camilla’s breast as I slip my cock into her and I fuck her, but not too hard. I can’t let her wake the kids, but she still lets out a few moans that are getting louder with each thrust so I cover her mouth with my hand.

  Camilla is still too loud so I flip her around and push her head into the seat cushion, covering her head with a pillow to muffle her euphoric grunts.

  I fuck her doggie style and it makes me feel like I’ve grown from a lost little puppy to a Goddamn king.

  I reach around her jiggling ass and around her hip to the front of her pussy until I find her clit and rub at it. She moans louder and I pause to throw her another pillow that she bites down on and I resume rubbing her clit as I thrust her repeatedly.

  Camilla maintains a constant quiver with her head under the pillows and I rain kisses on her back until she convulses and my cock is saturated with her come, igniting me. Rapid, shallow breaths escape my mouth as I smack against her ass, pounding her harder and by God, I come.

  Camilla tries to get away, but I toss the pillows aside and I force her to lie down on the couch. She watches me as I pull up my boxers and my pants.

  “You can’t stay,” she says, but I climb up behind her, wedging myself between her and the back of the couch to spoon her.

  I move her hair out of her ear and I kiss her earlobe. “Why can’t I stay?” I whisper.

  “Because the overseers of the adoption process might not like the idea I have a younger man hanging around my house with no real purpose or affiliation to the household. If they find out, I don’t want them to assume the worst and jeopardize my chances of adopting Buckler’s kid.”

  I wrap my arms around her more firmly, squeezing her tight. “What’s the worst they can assume?”

  “You’re half my age, Gunner. I’m sure they’ll assume whatever they want, like we’re using each other in some way.”

  “Well, like I said, you’ll have to adopt me, too. Then, there’ll be no assumptions.”

  “Gunner, this isn’t funny,” Camilla grumbles, putting one hand over her eyes. “Stop joking. You can’t keep coming here. You have no genuine affiliation with the household.”

  “I don’t have any affiliation right now,” I say, “but I will. And that’s not a joke.”

  “How are you planning to affiliate yourself?” she smirks.

  “The second I’m your husband, no one will be able to assume or talk shit about anything. I’ll be the king of this castle and no one will doubt any affiliation I have with you, these kids, or this house.”

  We hear a noise from upstairs; it’s likely coming from one of the kids. Camilla tries to get up, but I grip her securely.

  “Shh, don’t move,” I tell her.

  “But Gunner, I—”
>
  “Don’t move!” I stress again in a whisper and grip Camilla so tight she knows she’s not going to get away. “Give them a chance to fall back asleep,” I say. “They’re not going anywhere and neither am I.”

  Camilla huffs. I am bigger and stronger than she is, physically, so I’m going to win this battle—but it will be the last battle. I think we are both ready to end this cycle. We are both ready to surrender.

  Chapter 10

  I hurt. Both of my eyes hurt, but one certainly feels like it got punched.

  And my nose tickles so I wipe at it.

  I also feel like I can’t breathe, like there’s something heavy on my chest.

  I open my one good eye and laugh to myself. Sprawled like a monkey over my chest with drool pouring out of his mouth and onto the superhero blanket I’m covered with is my Carrot Top. At some point, Camilla must’ve gotten away from me and left me on the couch, only to be replaced by the kid.

  I feel a squeeze at my nose, but it’s not my Carrot Top; he’s fast asleep, so I roll my eye to the side.

  I wish both eyes could open, so I could get a good look at the pretty little girl who is face-to-face with me; she has thick black hair cut in a bob, brown eyes, round cheeks, and a very cute nose.

  “Who the fuck are you?” she asks.

  “I’m Gunner,” I say. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Rosa,” she says proudly. “What are you doing here?”

  I clear my throat. “Your mom let me stay the night.”

  “What happened to your face?” she asks as she pokes at my bad eye.

  I move her hand away. “I got into a fight.”

  “That’s too bad,” says Rosa. “Mama doesn’t like fighting, so I’m sure you’re not going to be allowed to stay again.”

  I turn my head to stare the little Filipina down with my one good eye. “I’m stayin’.”

  “No, you’re not,” she sasses. “I already had to make room for Carrot Top and I’m not going to let Mama take in any more kids.”

  I can’t help but laugh at the coincidental nickname Rosa has given her future brother. But I also need to be clear, so I get serious. “I’m not a kid.”

  Rosa squints. “Are you sure about that?”

  “I’m twenty-two. How old are you?” I ask. “You’ve gotta be what? Six? You’re a little too much of a wise ass for a six-year old.”

  “I’m eleven, soon-to-be twelve,” says Rosa. “I’m short because I have a history of infections. I have neutropenia, which is a white cell disorder, but my doctor says I’m outgrowing it.”

  My heart breaks. “That doesn’t sound like much fun.”

  “It wasn’t,” Rosa says sternly. “And you have no idea how hard I had to work to get adopted because I’ve been sick and how good I had to be to make sure I could stay here with Mama. She had to work hard to keep me, too, because she doesn’t have a husband. But you, mister...” Rosa’s almond-shaped eyes stay sternly fixated on me as she points at my eye, which I’m sure isn’t just swollen, but also turning black and blue by now. “You don’t look like you’re boyfriend material or that you’re good for Mama at all. This is our place, so you need to leave.”

  I clear my throat again and Carrot Top twitches.

  “Listen kid,” I tell Rosa. “I may have been gone a while, but I was here before you were. And I hate to break it to you, but like I said, I’m stayin’. I might not have always been good, but I’ve been fighting just as hard as you to get myself into this place and I’m really close to getting your mom to marry me. You might be her kid, but I’m about to be her husband.”

  Rosa clenches her mouth shut. She’s so angry, it’s cute.

  “Gunner!” cries Carrot Top and I feel a squeeze around my neck.

  “What’s up, little man?” I ask him and I sit up to give him a squeeze back then give him a look over. “You got a lot bigger since the last time I saw you.”

  “Yeah! I’m big like you and I get all the bitches like you, too,” he announces.

  Rosa punches my arm. “Bitches?! I thought you said you wanted to marry my mom!” she cries and starts ranting in Filipino as she punches me again.

  Carrot Top pushes Rosa and the next thing I know the two are in a fistfight, so I pick them both up over my shoulders and stand to spin the three of us until they start laughing.

  From the corner of my eye, I see Camilla watching so I put the kids down. I take a step towards Camilla and Rosa grabs onto my leg.

  “No!” the little girl cries. She obviously doesn’t want me near her mother, but I think she might also want to keep playing.

  Carrot Top sits on my opposite foot and wraps his hands around my calf and I have to drag both kids as they each cling to a leg while I try to make my way to Camilla who is watching us, still in her nightgown, still looking like a mom and smiling.

  “I think they want you to adopt me,” I tell Camilla and I hear both kids yell—Rosa is opposed; Carrot Top is all for it.

  “She can’t adopt you,” scolds Rosa. “You’re not a kid!”

  I look down at the little girl still gripping my leg. “You’re right, Rosa,” I say and I look back to Camilla, “Will you marry me instead?”

  Camilla rubs her forehead with one hand. “Gunner, you’re a soldier. Soldiers don’t stay in one place for very long. Being in the military means we’ll always be moving.”

  “I’m moving with Gunner!” shouts Carrot Top.

  “Well, I’m not moving, so you can’t marry him,” cries Rosa.

  I bend down to the ground and look the little girl in the eyes. “Rosa, I have a confession—I’m sick, too.”

  The little girl looks stunned as her hands relax around my calf.

  “You see, Rosa. I’m so sick in love with your mom, it hurts me. But you and I have a lot more in common than being sick. Believe it or not, I was adopted, too, when I was a kid.” Rosa squints and grips my leg again as I continue, “I know what’s it’s like to have to move around between families, always wishing to find a home. And I was lucky enough to find a family that loved me. It didn’t matter if I wasn’t good all the time. It didn’t matter how old or young I was. My adopted parents loved me and they accepted me, but the truth is, I’m still looking for acceptance. I’m still looking for a family that will accept me. I know I’m not perfect. Many people will say I’m too young. But I want in on this family. You said you had to work really hard to get here. I’m willing to work hard to stay here and maybe eventually you will adopt me so I can marry your mother.”

  I hear a sniffle and turn to see Camilla with tears in her eyes.

  Rosa sighs at the sight of her mother and turns to me. “If I adopt you, will we have to move like Mama says?”

  “Yes,” I confirm, “we won’t just be an adoptive family, we will be a military family so we will move eventually. But if there’s anything you need to help make transitions easier, I’d be happy to get it for you.”

  “Can I get a puppy?” asks Rosa.

  “I want a puppy, too!” I hear Carrot Top from behind me.

  I turn my head between the two kids. “If your mom,” I say to Rosa, “and your future mom,” I say to Carrot Top, “agrees to marry me, I will get you a puppy.”

  My legs come free of gripping children who slide across the carpet to Camilla and I laugh as they grip onto her legs to cry and whine about the puppy they’ve been promised.

  This is the part I love.

  I love to fight with Camilla. The kids love to fight with her, too. We are in a never-ending cycle of arguments on a nightly basis when I’m at home.

  It’s been nearly a year that we’ve been married and Camilla still argues that Rosa is too old to be carried to her room and get tucked in next to a Labrador that is twice our child’s size. But Rosa typically pretends to fall asleep in front of the TV and she’s learned to ignore her mother’s rants, as I did when I was her mother’s driver, so Rosa and I usually win those arguments together.

  Camilla also argues that Jake,
our son who wants to change his last name to Badass-Buckler, should not fall asleep without brushing his teeth, especially since he eats too much candy. I remember he finished the whole bag of candy I got from my lawyer in one sitting. But Jake doesn’t have permanent teeth yet so I figure his baby teeth were meant to rot; they’ll all just fall out on their own, as mine did before I was adopted.

  I used to argue with Jake about the fact he picked the pink painted room over the blue one to be his bedroom. It wasn’t for several weeks before Jake made it known the pink reminded him of his mother, who had a room painted with pink walls at his grandpa’s house. That was not a battle I should have engaged in, so Jake won his right to color his territory the way he wants it. My guilt allows me to feel good about standing united with him in our never-ending war against toothpaste.

  And then, of course, there is the final battle—the final part of our family cycle that ends every perfect day when I am home and I’m not off training for weeks or months at a time to prepare for combat in a foreign hostile zone.

  It’s the part when Camilla and I go to bed after we’ve tucked in the kids, but before I actually get to cuddle my cougar. It’s the part when I fuck my wife and she has to fight to keep quiet. It’s the part she claws at me when my huge gun shoots so far up into her pussy it makes her want to scream as she comes on my cock. But Camilla can never know defeat; she can’t scream or she’ll wake the enemy—the kids, sleeping silently in their beds.

  It doesn’t stop me from pounding Camilla hard to test both our limits. She understands my behavior; she used to be a soldier. She even let me fuck her in the asshole once and by God, that was a victory worth all the arguing and effort. But she did look defeated afterward. I wore her ass out.

  Tonight, as I pull my cougar close so I can stroke her hair to hear her purr, I can’t help but wonder why I haven’t made a second attempt yet to sneak my big gun back into her tiny little asshole, but I will attempt another invasion one day.

  Because, if there’s one thing a soldier is determined to follow through on, it is the first and final order of the day, which is always to keep going.