Because Beards
Page 10
“I shouldn’t have gone.”
“There’s a small chance I could see your little pussy when you were sitting at the stadium earlier. Thanks for wearing a dress.” His fingers danced along the edges of the fabric but he didn’t touch me.
I looked over, studying the sculpt of his arms, the slope of his back and chest. But then I looked up. The snagglepuss that was clinging to his face ruined everything.
“Let’s just play pool.” I sighed and stalked around the table and took the liberty of breaking.
He let me roll for a little while before he grazed against my inner calf with a pool cue. My skin tingled and I twisted to playfully scold him but I got beard-slapped and the reality check made my face fall.
“Please don’t.”
“What?” He read the complete shift in my body language.
“I can’t. I honestly keep trying and I can’t. I’m sorry.” I placed my cue on the table and turned to walk toward Mandy.
When I found her wrapped around Twenty-Two, and JJ in deep conversation, I slid onto a bar stool in the corner and ordered bourbon. It only took two minutes for the sheer hunk of muscle that was Graham to slide onto the stool next to me. He ordered a beer then sat silently next to me, just screwing around on his phone.
Mine buzzed against the bar where I’d left it.
How about this? We’re really good at this.
That we are.
I smiled as I looked down at my phone then over at him. He seemed to be smiling too but it was so hard to tell with shag carpeting covering his face.
Can I tell you that when I saw your pussy today before the game, framed by white cotton and combat boots, I got hard. I wanted to bury myself in you. I wanted to pull up the video you sent me a few days ago.
Only if I can tell you that I stared at your dick almost all game.
That’s gonna get me hard all over again
Don’t tease a girl
I’d only tease you with the tip
No way I’d accept just the tip. I’d swallow you whole.
He groaned next to me beneath his breath. The sound was so full of want and need I couldn’t help that my hand went to his thigh. He sucked in another deep breath and laced his hand into mine.
I should tell you to get your hands off me
I should get my hands off you
We were both slower texting one handed but we managed.
Please don’t
He pulled on my hand and placed it on his dick. The thick column was coming to life beneath me and I couldn’t help but flex my hand into it and rub.
“Holy fuck,” he whispered under his breath. I kept stroking.
The palm of my hand was getting hot and it wasn’t just friction. It was the chemistry between us that threatened to singe my skin. I looked around to make sure no one had crept into our dark corner of the bar. Everyone had gravitated to the pool tables and high-top tables that peppered the space. It was safe to flip his button and unzip his fly.
“You’re a minx.” He laughed breathily.
“I can’t help myself with you.” I wormed my hand under the waistband of his boxer briefs.
“Perfect.”
I rubbed on him harder, adding flicks and twists of my wrist. I leaned over and sipped on my bourbon at the same time, trying to be nonchalant.
“God, I’ve been dying to feel you against me,” he said it so quietly, so haggard I didn’t think I’d ever made a man that excited before.
“Are you going to come?” I angled toward him, less concerned with my bourbon.
“In your hand if you give it one second.”
Everything inside me clenched. Here in the dark it was the man with a beastly cock and the silver tongue. That man I wanted to get off. I wanted to feel his hot cum in my hand the way I had felt my own when I masturbated to videos he’d sent or things he said.
“I have to kiss you,” he said in a breathy, choppy voice and he started leaning in.
For a split second, I stayed still. I wanted to kiss the man I’d been phone fucking too. I wanted to feel what his lips would be like against mine. How his hands actually would explore my body. My eyes fluttered shut and I surrendered.
Until he rubbed a Brillo pad against my cheek.
“Stop.” I shot back from him and yanked my hand from his pants.
“Wait. What?” He was breathing heavy, slumped against the bar with the tip of his dick still poking out over top of the Calvin Klein elastic.
The unmistakable heebie-jeebies crawled up and down my neck. I felt like there was a ghost trying to grate the skin of my cheek off.
“I’m sorry, Graham. I really am.” I bit my lip and turned, all but running out the door.
My phone pinged while I sat on the fire escape outside my window. I knew it was Graham without getting up. Part of me wanted to read it, part of me was sure there was nothing he could say to get us out of this pickle.
Did I just suck it up? Find a way to choke the bile down and kiss him despite the fact that I was likely kissing everything he’d eaten in the last few hours and his sweat from practice and any pussy he’d had in the last few weeks? I shuddered at the thought.
The clatter of my phone buzzing wildly against the dresser was becoming obnoxious so I pushed up from the warm steel of the fire escape and snatched it.
I know it’s because I kissed you
I should have just let you keep touching me
As soon as you stopped I was…
His next photo was an exaggerated pouty face. Despite the beard, I could see the hint of big, full lips. The small pelted critter trying to eat his face made me shudder.
And The Beast was…
His second photo was a picture of his dick only he’d drawn on it with a black marker like that dude that made memes for Tumblr. It had tiny eyes and a giant frown. It was big, bold, noticeable lines that were obviously actually drawn on. To top it off, Graham had obviously jerked off because cum coated his frownie dick, making it look like it was bawling.
It was ridiculous. Well, more like riDICKulous, but still…
I busted up laughing, even doubling over, and slapping my knee. I couldn’t catch my breath as I studied the giant crying dick over and over. It was this big, beautiful monster with an adorable child’s drawing of a face. It was like the worlds most twisted children’s book, and I loved it.
How would he explain Sharpie on his cock to his teammates? How did he plan to actually explain the dopey face to me? Why couldn’t I make out with the sports god that had a sense of humor?
I’m gonna go out on a limb and say there’s a crying pussy out there too. I know I made you wet…
I bit my lip, knowing it was a picture request and immediately had an idea.
How would I explain marker on my cooter? Since no one but Graham was seeing it, it didn’t much matter. He’d find this shit funny. Lucky I was shaved clean for the perfect canvas. What on earth possessed me to draw on myself was beyond me. I stepped over to my desk and dug around for a Sharpie.
I only found a pink one. The idea of a pink pussy made me snicker even harder as I hiked up my dress. I threw my leg up on the radiator so I could see myself in the mirror. I slipped for a minute and a stray line gashed down my thigh.
“Fuck.”
My cinematography skills had to get good and quick. Otherwise, I’d look like a kid had at my thigh before I went full filth. It was another one of those moments when I thought about what a dirty little hooker I actually was then shrugged it off with a mischievous smirk. Mandy would find it funny, except that I was thinking about her while touching myself.
I was a little slick at just the sight of The Beast. After all, he was enough to make a river run wild. And the humor just made everything below my belly button clench. So I stuck my tongue out as I scribbled tiny little ears across the hairless plane above my snatch. I laughed at the tiny triangles enough to tumble again and scribble all over my other thigh, making my legs look even more absurd. When I stopped gigg
ling, I added two tiny little crinkled eyes, then whiskers shooting out from my clit.
It was probably the stupidest, weirdest, and least sexy thing I could have thought up but I’d managed a pretty cute doodle. I snapped a picture and sent it with the caption “meWOW” then busted up laughing all over again. A second later my phone rang, Graham’s name popping up on the screen.
I meowed into the receiver instead of saying hello.
He snarled a little bit before he answered, “I think someone needs to feed that pussy.”
The knock on my door surprised me, I wasn’t expecting anyone. The sharpie kitty I’d drawn over a week ago was still fading from between my legs and since I’d been sitting around in nothing but a t-shirt I had to scramble to cover it up. I checked my appearance in the mirror and I looked exactly like the hot mess constant late night phone sex was making me out to be.
As soon as I covered up, I yanked open the door to find JJ casually leaning against the doorframe.
“Nurse J, what are you doing here?”
“He’s single-handedly lost two games in a row Livy.” Dr. Jason Jones had swiftly replaced Nurse JJ and he pushed into my tiny apartment. “I told you to be careful because this wasn’t some random Tinder hook-up but you didn’t listen.”
He strode right into the kitchen and helped himself to a glass of water. He gulped it back way too fast then leaned against the counter, rolling the empty glass between his hands in an anxious movement as he did.
“We’re just having fun.” It was a weak defense and I knew it.
“You’re having fun. He’s risking everything Livy. And I see the way he looks at you. He’s happy to do it, thinking you’ll change.”
“Maybe I will.” There was absolutely no conviction in my voice.
“Yeah and maybe monkeys will fly out of my butt.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at the Wayne’s World reference.
“You’re stubborn as hell Livy, and I have years of ridiculous stories to use as evidence.”
I sighed with absolutely no defense.
“Look, Livy, we’re leaving for New York on a red eye tonight. Go out. Get laid by someone who shaves and stop answering his calls.” It was a brotherly warning, serious but warm all at once. “Please, Livy. Do it for me?”
My phone ring was blaring from somewhere. I rubbed at my eyes as I searched for it mixed in with the blankets. I had gone out, like JJ had suggested, but there wasn’t a clean shaven face in the house. Or maybe I just wasn’t looking. I tried to remember the finer details as I patted around.
“Hello,” I finally answered and it sounded like I smoked six packs a day.
“Hi minx.” Graham had started calling me the nickname after the bar. My smile split my face each and every time he used it.
“Did you get to New York okay?”
“Yeah, the red eye always sucks. Then trying to get some privacy to call you took forever. It’s nice to hear your voice now, though.”
I couldn’t help but hum into the phone.
“Jason was telling this story about you and his sister camping tonight on the plane. I turned off my headphones to eavesdrop. You guys were trouble.”
My stomach bottomed out and my eyes shot open. It didn’t matter that it was 5 a.m.
“And for the record, you topless, yelling at the cops…”
Graham went on telling the story but I couldn’t make myself listen. Usually this was one of my favorite tales, full of humor, shenanigans, and nudity. Mandy and I telling it together was a sight, full of hand motions, sound effects, and visual aids courtesy of her camera roll. But tonight it was a frigid cold reminder of what JJ had begged for yesterday.
“Graham,” I interrupted, my voice a little shaky.
“Livy?” He must have sensed something was off right away.
“Are you okay Graham?” My voice was far too timid and shaky.
“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” His voice wasn’t as convinced as his words.
“JJ, I mean Jason and I were talking. He’s worried…” I gulped.
Why is this so hard to get out?
“About me?”
“Yeah.” My bottom lip quivered. “Since this isn’t ever going to be…more…”
“You still think that? I mean, I thought things were changing. That you’d give me a chance.” The voice on the other end of the line wasn’t Graham’s anymore. It wasn’t smirktastic or strong and assertive.
“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like you Graham. And The Beast is delicious, but…” Tears were starting to knot in my throat but I had to follow through. Dragging out the flirtation was selfish, relishing the orgasms was even worse.
“You’re going to throw this away because of the beard?” he snarled. “Really?”
“Graham…” My voice broke as I whined into the phone.
“Don’t Graham me.” His voice was an echo of mine. “I know it’s new and I know it’s mostly tit pics and dirty videos and phone sex but it’s more too. I want to take you to dinner. I want you to come to a game with me. A night at the movies would be awesome.”
“I can’t date you.” My voice was small, mousey almost.
“Because you don’t want my beard between your legs?” He was almost shouting at me now.
“Because I can’t kiss you.” The words were barely more than a whisper. “The idea still turns my stomach.”
The line went dead and the three tones of a hang-up blared in my ear. I couldn’t blame Graham for disconnecting. We’d danced around the subject until I up and smacked him in the face with it. Hard.
A tear or two dripped down my cheek. He’d never really been mine—I wouldn’t let him be—but I missed him all the same.
Just for shits I Googled him. There he was with his big, dark bush covered face and, for the first time, I missed it. I couldn’t kiss it, I couldn’t cuddle it, but something deep inside me yearned to have that pube face back.
I couldn’t force my body out of bed all day. I only managed to turn on the TV around 4 p.m. ESPN all but obliterated Graham during their telecast of the game. And rightfully so. He was a disaster, almost scoring in his own goal. My guilt was as large as the goal deficit the Timbers were dealing with.
Twice I went to text him. I wanted to say I was sorry, beg forgiveness, tell him that we might never kiss but the way his voice decimated me was worth it. But then a full face shot of an angry, rabid beaver would still my hand.
I opened my phone just once and scrolled down to his name in my favorites. With a few clicks, I deleted the number. I needed to stay 500 yards from The Beard at all times, and forget about The Beast all together.
“Please?” Mandy begged. “Please, please, please, please, please!” She was even tugging on my shirttail.
“Mandy, stop.” I shoved at her hands. “You know damn well why I don’t want to go. I need to get over him.”
“You were never under him.” She smirked then broke into a full-blown giggle at herself.
“You’re hilarious.” I rolled my eyes. “And trying really hard to get me to go.” The sarcasm was thick as frozen peanut butter in my voice.
“Is it really so bad to see him? Doesn’t seeing him help? Seeing him means you’re gonna look at that big ole Sasquatch face and remember all the reasons you stopped talking to him.”
“JJ told me to stop talking to him. The beard was the only reason I followed through.” I blew out a heavy sigh.
Mandy was partially right. Every time they flashed his face on the jumbotron or he turned toward the crowd, I’d feel that familiar lurch and or sucker punch to my insides. But if he was playing poorly, I’d blame myself for letting it go where it had in the first place. If they interviewed him and I heard that voice, there was a chance I’d pass right out. But then there was the beard…
“Why can’t he just shave it!” I snarled in frustration at no one in particular.
“Because the Timbers gift store is filled with jerseys that say Beard…t-shirts, lumberjac
k costumes…Hell, there are foam beards you can buy. They’re all based on Graham.”
My insides twisted. Mandy was right. She usually was. But hearing that Graham was there and there was still next to no hope was obliterating me. And, honestly, I needed to piece myself back together.
“You’re right.” This time when I sighed, I blew the layer of hair hanging in my face skyward. “About all of it. He’ll never shave and I’ll never change. I need to get over it. Game time it is.”
The roar of the crowd was deafening in my ears but I couldn’t manage much more than a slow clap. My insides balled and writhed and tangled up on themselves. In a few seconds number four was going to jog onto the field. Long, sculpted arms were going to wave at the crowd, and that shelf of an ass was going to make my mouth water. He’d smile but it would be buried deep beneath that creature suctioned to his face.
I’d feel all the things that I couldn’t quite explain. And likely all at once. I’d have to tie them up in a long stringing pube hair bow to get through this.
His silken jersey slinked up and down on his perfectly sculpted frame. The number four crinkled and flattened just above God’s gift to women conveniently wrapped in white shiny shorts.
I waited to go deaf. For the crowd eruption to chatter my teeth and threaten to dislodge my head, but it didn’t come. Across the stadium from us the crowd deflated, one by one people became slow clappers just like me. Soon an eerie hush rolled over the stadium that was only punctuated by gasps and the cricket like noise of whispers.
“What’s going on?” I asked Mandy out of the side of my mouth, unable to take my eyes off Graham.
She shrugged as we both watched him turn in time with his name being belted over the sound system.
“Holy Fuck!” I shouted loud enough that my voice became a ping-pong ball bouncing around the stadium. Graham smirked where I could see him and rubbed the back of his neck, then let his hand trail down his jaw.