Blue Balls

by RC Boldt

  “You’d better get up here now,” I warn, my voice hoarse.

  Shifting, he reaches for a condom on my bedside table and sheaths himself quickly then grips my hips to drag me closer to the edge of the mattress. Leaning over me with his hands braced on either side of my head, he presses his tip to my entrance. Inching inside me slowly, he gazes down at me with a mixture of tenderness and heated lust as one thumb drags along my cheekbone.

  “You’re so beautiful, Sunshine.” He presses his lips tenderly to mine as his cock presses deeper, and I already feel the telltale tightening of my inner muscles. The way he feels inside me; each subsequent thrust from Jack pushes me closer to the edge. As he continues to drive deep, working his hard length in and out of me, my muscles grow taut in anticipation of my release. One more thrust is all it’ll take…

  “Oh, honey. You’ve chosen well.”

  Jack and I both jerk at the sound of the intruding voice, our foreheads smacking together as we attempt to grab something to cover ourselves with.

  “Ouch!” I cry out, holding a hand to my forehead before yelling in the direction of the trail of muttering down the hall. “Mother! What are you doing here?!”

  Jack has a large red spot on his forehead near his left eyebrow. He’s using the comforter to cover himself while I quickly pull on one of the oversized T-shirts I often sleep in.

  “Your mother?” he hisses in question.

  “She’s crazy,” I whisper-yell. “She’ll be planning our happily ever after.” Hiding my face in my hands, I shudder. “God, she saw your freaking ass. While we were…” I drop my hands from my face to gesture with one as I try to find the words.

  Jack raises an eyebrow. He’s sitting back against my headboard as if he’s not at all scarred or perturbed by what’s just transpired.

  “Copulating? Fornicating?” His expression brightens, and he tosses out, “Shagging?” before imitating the Austin Powers’s British accent. “But we were just shagging, baby.”

  “You think this is funny?” The frenzied panic in my voice is evident.

  “What’s your young man’s name?” my mother calls from the kitchen. She’s probably rummaging through my pantry and refrigerator, judging me for the takeout containers because of the plastic that hurts the environment or the GMOs that the prepared foods might contain. My mother’s a bit—okay, a lot—of a hippie. She’s into free-range anything.

  “Or should I call him sweet cheeks?” She giggles. “You know, because his butt is so—”

  “Jack!” I interject loudly. “His name is Jack!”

  Of course, he’s sitting here grinning away as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. As if his clothes aren’t scattered throughout my apartment willy-nilly.

  He shifts to get off the bed, standing and walking over to me. My eyes automatically drop to where he’s still visibly hard. Like, really hard. Jerking my eyes back up to his, I wince.

  “I’m sorry about this and”—I wave a hand toward his obvious arousal—“that. Because I know it’s painful and—”

  He cuts off my words with a kiss before pressing his forehead to mine. “Sunshine, you forget. We’ve been here before.”

  I blow out a heavy breath. “It’s getting to be a trend, isn’t it?”

  His hands cradle my face, gaze searching. “I love being with you.” His attention drops to where his thumb softly caresses my cheekbone. “Not only for this.”

  With a quick kiss on my lips, he backs away and grins. “Now, go get Mr. Sweet Cheeks his clothes so I can meet your mother.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Jack

  Sarah moves at Mach speed, darting down the hallway while I sit on the bed and wait for her to return with my clothes. I hear her release a few soft grunts and picture her frazzled while she scoops up clothing as she goes.

  “That key you used was for emergencies only, Mother.”

  Sarah’s mother responds, sounding completely nonplussed at the blatant irritation in her daughter’s tone. “Honey, I wanted to surprise you.”

  Sarah huffs loudly and stomps back down the hallway, muttering, “You certainly succeeded.” Entering the bedroom, she tosses our clothing onto the mussed bed and quickly begins sorting through it. Once she’s divvied up our clothing, she frantically pulls on her clothes from earlier while I tug on my underwear and pants.

  She runs a hand over her hair to smooth it down. “Okay,” she says suddenly, “we can say that you have to go to your office because you have some big project at work and—”

  “You trying to get rid of me?” My expression is one of exaggerated hurt. “That wounds me deeply.”

  Her sharp glare just makes me smile. “Seriously, Westbrook?”

  “Aw, but you don’t scare me.” I slide an arm around her waist, tugging her flush against me. “I like you best when you’re feisty,” I whisper against her lips, purposely dragging my own against hers but refrain from kissing her. I can practically feel the rigidness of her body ease, and it spurs me on, knowing I’m the reason for it. My lips dust across her jaw. “I also happen to really like being deep inside you, Sunshine.”

  “Did you just do that little naughty whisper thing?” she whispers softly, and I’m glad to hear the panic has receded slightly in her tone. “Are you trying to give me a lady boner while my mother is right down the hall?” she hisses.

  Chuckling softly, I press a gentle kiss to her temple. “I sure did. And yes”—I run my teeth lightly over her earlobe, relishing in her sharp intake of breath—“I am.”

  Backing away and tugging on the last article of clothing—my shirt—I wink before exiting the bedroom, leaving Sarah standing there. Padding down the hallway, I call out to Sarah’s mother, “Mr. Sweet Cheeks is fully clothed now, so we can get properly acquainted.”

  I enter the kitchen to see an older version of Sarah dressed in a long skirt which ends at her ankles, thin, strappy woven sandals on her feet, and a shirt made of thin, flowy material which drapes her petite form.

  Her face lights up when she sees me. “You’re even better from the front.” A wide, exuberant grin accompanies her announcement. “I’ll have to commend my daughter on her good choice.” Abruptly, her face falls, expression worried. “Are you a vegan?”

  “Uh, no, ma’am,” I answer slowly because, hell, I’m the farthest thing from a vegan. “I enjoy a good steak as much as the next guy.”

  “Oh, that’s a relief.” She lets out a long sigh, reaching over to pat my shoulder. “Oooh!” Her expression perks up. “Nice muscles.” She squeezes me and continues talking. “Men who eat red meat normally have healthier levels of testosterone and”—she steps closer to peer down at my crotch—“high libido.”

  Oh shit.

  Thrusting out a hand in hopes to draw her attention away from my dick, I introduce myself. “Jack Westbrook. Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

  She bats away my outstretched hand and instead closes the distance and tugs me in for a hug with far more strength than I’d imagined a petite fiftyish woman would have. “I’m Lilly.” I receive a firm pat on my back and a quick swat on my ass before she releases me to step back.

  Her blue eyes sparkle with mischief as she peers up at me. “Had to see what my daughter was working with.”

  I’m not entirely sure how I feel about Sarah’s mother feeling me up…

  “Motherrrrrr.” Sarah’s voice carries, and she slides into view, looking more composed with her hair pulled back in a ponytail and a zip-up hoodie over her clothes. “Explain to me again what you’re doing here?”

  Lilly pulls her in for a hug, and I can’t help but notice she doesn’t get the same ass pat I did. When her mother releases Sarah and goes back to shuffling through the pantry with her back to us, I lean in to Sarah’s ear to whisper a taunt.

  “I got an ass pat, and you didn’t.”

  Sarah’s blue eyes narrow on me, but before she can spout off a comeback, Lilly pipes up with, “That’s because his ass is nicer than yours.”


  Sarah merely shakes her head. “What brought you up here from Albany?”

  “Oh, you know.” More shuffling in the pantry. “I needed your help with something, so I thought I’d stop by and get you. But even better—” Lilly turns from the pantry, expression a mix of hopeful and excitement.

  “No, Mother.”

  “Jack can come with us!”

  My eyes dart back and forth between the two women, wondering what in the hell I’m missing. Lilly’s expression is one of pure delight while Sarah’s eyes are wide with alarm. “No. Say no, Jack.”

  Lilly waves it off. “Nonsense. He’ll enjoy himself.”

  Sarah’s only response is a strangled sound.

  Curiosity gets the best of me in this case, so my only response is, “Count me in.”

  * * *

  Holy. Fucking. Shit. What in the hell did I get myself into?

  “I tried to tell you,” Sarah hisses at me, shaking her head with a sigh.

  She’s completely right, too. She tried. I thought maybe her mother needed her help with paint colors or choosing a new couch. I thought her mother would take us into town to help her choose a new refrigerator or washer and dryer. I certainly never thought I’d find myself tagging along to help a woman I’d just met choose something more personal.

  And by personal, I mean a sex toy.

  “So, Jack…” Lilly links her arm through mine as we stroll the adult toy warehouse. “Tell me what you’d prefer the woman in your life to purchase for you.”

  My head snaps to Sarah, and I know my expression is one that screams, Please save me!

  She merely grins, and mouths the words I uttered so carelessly early. “Count me in.”

  “What about anal beads?” Lilly asks.

  “Yeah, Jack,” Sarah pipes up helpfully. “What about anal beads?”

  Pinning Sarah with a look, I retort, “I’ve never used anal beads, Sunshine.” Lowering my voice in challenge, I add, “Yet I haven’t had any complaints.”

  “Well, then what would you recommend?” Lilly ambles away about twenty feet to inspect a display of butt plugs beside a variety of silicone vaginas.

  Sarah tugs at my wrists, softly tapping her forehead against my chest. “Why me?” she mutters softly. “Why. Me?”

  My chest rumbles with a laugh before I dip my head to whisper in her ear. “We’re stuck in this together. Might as well make the most of it, Sunshine.” Then I raise my voice to call out to Lilly.

  “I think the butt plugs might be a fun start, Lilly.”

  And Sarah and I can’t help but dissolve into quiet laughter at our current situation.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Sarah

  “Thanks for the interesting little excursion, Mom.”

  What else can I say, really? Thanks, Mom, for taking me and Jack along to choose a personal sex aid for you and your new man to try out? I’d rather not take a stroll down that memory lane, thank you very much.

  She enfolds me in her arms, and for a moment, I’m sent back to when I was a young girl. Back to before Dad left. Before she started to reinvent herself each time she found a new boyfriend. Before she decided the original version of herself was lacking.

  Before she made me realize what I didn’t want to become—what I never wanted to have happen to me.

  With a little laugh, she smiles. “It was my pleasure, honey.” There’s a pause before she whispers in my ear, so as to not let Jack overhear her. He’s already bid her goodbye and is sitting on my couch, the sound of the television playing softly in the background. “You should keep Sweet Cheeks around. He’s a good one.”

  Backing away, I flash her a look of warning because she should know me by now. “Don’t start.” My tone is subdued and weary since we’ve been over this a million times. “Please.”

  She cups my cheeks in her hands. Eyes the same shade of blue as my own stare back at me as she expels, “Oh, Sarah,” on a sigh.

  My lips quirk. “Oh, Mom,” I toss back.

  Her gaze flickers, and I swear I catch sight of a slight tinge of sadness in the depths. She drops a quick kiss on my cheek and turns to open the door.

  She tosses out a, “Take care of our girl, Sweet Cheeks,” before stepping over the threshold and into the hallway.

  “Will do, Lilly,” Jack instantly responds. Neither of them thinks I noticed the whole “our girl” comment, but I did. I simply choose not to acknowledge it.

  “Bye, Mom.”

  “Bye, sweetie.” My mom takes two steps down the hallway toward the elevator and then stops, appearing to hesitate. Then she spins back around to face me. “Maybe we can get together for dinner one night soon? Just the two of us?”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask why. To ask if she’ll have the same hair color the next time I see her or if she’ll pretend to be on a red meat kick. But I don’t because I want our night to end on a good note.

  I muster up a smile. “Sure. Sounds good to me.”

  She gives a little wave and blows me a kiss before making her way over to the elevator. Once the doors open and she steps inside, I close and lock the door to my apartment and lean back against the hard surface. Blowing out a long breath, I mutter to myself, “I really need a drink.”

  “Want me to pour you a glass of wine?”

  I jerk with a start, so caught up in my own thoughts that I’d forgotten Jack was still here. Heading down the hallway to where he’s lounging on my couch, I notice his one arm casually stretched across the back of it while the other rests on the arm.

  He looks like he belongs here.

  The thought is so foreign, so startling that I’m certain my breathing literally stopped for a split second.

  “Actually,” I start with a sigh, “after everything today, I’d honestly prefer to just veg out.”

  His eyes hold mine for a beat before his lips curve upward slightly. Reaching over for one of the soft throw pillows on my couch, he places it on his lap before patting it twice. “Then get over here and veg out with me, Sunshine.”

  I don’t acknowledge my lack of hesitation in joining him on the couch. Nor the feeling of contentment that runs through me when he covers me with the throw blanket normally draped over the back of the couch. Nor the soothing way his fingers gently comb through my hair, lulling my eyes closed in blissful relaxation.

  Much later, I’m vaguely aware of him slipping me into my bed after I’ve fallen asleep on his lap. He pulls the covers over me before pressing a featherlight kiss to my lips. But I don’t acknowledge it.

  Yet a deep, dark corner of my heart does.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Sarah

  “Today is the day. My best friend’s getting married to the guy of her dreams who once claimed to be gay so he could rent her available room and figure out a way to woo her.”

  “Wow,” Maggie deadpans. “That was a charming recap.”

  “Hey.” I shrug with a smile. “I’m trying to keep myself from getting weepy.”

  And it’s tough, believe me. Maggie looks breathtaking in her dress. Just as I’m placing her delicate veil in place, there’s a knock on the door.

  “No, Ry!” I automatically holler.

  Ry’s made numerous attempts to see Maggie already, claiming he needed to give her a kiss and then a note. I had to put the kibosh on it all.

  “It’s only me, sweetie,” Mrs. James, Ry’s mother, calls out before the handle of the door turns, and she quickly steps into the room, closing the door behind her. She stops short at the sight of Maggie, her hand flying to cover her mouth.

  “Oh my word,” she breathes. “You are breathtaking.”

  “Isn’t she?” I smile over at Maggie, noticing her eyes are glistening slightly, and I know what she’s thinking. Her parents passed away a while ago, and I know she’d give anything to have them here today.

  Sliding my hand in hers, I give it a squeeze. “You know they’ll be watching with the best seats in the house.”

  Nodding,
she presses her lips together firmly before suddenly reaching out to me, and I embrace her as carefully as I can without disturbing her dress and veil. “Love you,” she mumbles softly.

  “Love you back,” I manage to say over the lump in my throat, widening my eyes to keep the tears from spilling over. Finally, Maggie and I part, and I concentrate on righting her veil, smoothing it.

  “Ry wanted me to give you this, sweetie.” Mrs. James holds out a small square napkin that’s folded in half. That’s Maggie and Ry’s thing; sweet little notes they write when they’re out somewhere.

  Maggie accepts the napkin, and when she reads it, the smile that spreads across her face is one that affirms everything. Because the smile derived from this small note from her husband-to-be immediately eradicates all traces of sadness, leaving in its place happiness. Knowing Maggie has found a love like this with Ry is everything to me, especially since she didn’t always have an easy go of things.

  Maggie’s eyes flicker up to me and over to Ry’s mother before returning to the napkin and reading the message aloud.

  I’ll be the guy who has the goofiest and happiest smile on his face waiting as his bride walks down the aisle toward him.

  I’m ready to marry the love of my life.

  I’m ready for Maggie James.

  Mrs. James dabs the corner of her eye with a tissue while I continue to fiddle with Maggie’s veil, doing my best to ensure it is perfect. Then I meet my best friend’s eyes.

  “I believe it’s time to go see your groom.”

  * * *

  There’s just something about weddings. It’s like you’re suddenly encapsulated within some sort of spell or mood which makes you swoony and sappy. Even me, a person who’s normally not the least bit swoony.

  But, man, this wedding was beautiful, and I guess it was inevitable that the air would be filled to the brim with love and sentiment when it comes to Maggie and Ry.

  I watch the couple as they linger at the bar. Ry plucks a small bar napkin from the stack nearby and pulls a pen from the inside pocket of his tux. Maggie smiles up at him as he writes something on the square of paper before sliding it over to her. And, like earlier, the moment she reads whatever it says, the look in her eyes, her entire expression is one of absolute—