by Tara Brent
Bethany peeked out from the sheet. True to his word, Tristan faced away, cloaked in his black velvet bathrobe. The one that he had thrown her seemed to match his. It even has a rose-gold TB embroidered into the breast. “You do realize that your initials make for a particularly gnarly lung disease, right? Straight up ‘the consumption’ from Angela’s Ashes!”
“Whereas your initials are merely a child’s gun,” said Tristan smoothly.
“You know,” she said, “BB Gun would not be the worst nickname for me,” she said.
“Sounds like you’re regaining your sassy armor,” Tristan observed.
“Yeah well clothing helps,” she said.
Tristan sat back down on the bed with her. “Perhaps. But, it does beg the question: what is it that you desire?”
Bethany shifted uncomfortably. “I... well...”
“I’ve been quite patient, I think you would agree,” said Tristan. “Not to say that you owe me anything by any means. However, I am unaccustomed to doing things at a pace other than my own, or allowing things to transpire at the will or whim of another. If you are content being friends, then by all means, you shall always have a powerful friend in me. If you mean to continue taking things at an easy pace, I can abide for a while, but not if I do not see some sign that this is going somewhere.”
“Is this just a big roundabout way of saying you want to, you know, snoogle my goodies...?” Tristan just stared at her. “You know. Syrup my waffles, becoming one flesh, potato my potahtoh, enjoying the power of procreation minus the endgame of procreation, giving me a 4D learning experience of the birds and the bees, shmerning me in the nerny, play faith-healer and make me cry out the lord’s name, oopsie my doopsie...”
Tristan blinked. “Yes, sex would be part of it, ideally. But I do understand your background complicates matters a tad.”
Bethany sat up, emboldened by his words. “My background? How do you mean?”
“Well, have you had sex before?”
“No.”
“Is it because men didn’t find you desirable?”
“Well, some men are weirdos and think they’ll be judged if they, you know, ‘play’ with a ‘fat chick,’ which I might add is not how I self-identify, but now, I could have had opportunities. Maybe. I think?”
“Which leads me to believe that being a member of the LDS church is a big component of why you haven’t done so yet. And again, that’s not me judging. But we have yet to even kiss, and my worldview is not quite as limited.”
Bethany stood up and marched over, poking him in the chest with her pointer finger. “Now you listen here, buster,” she said. “Anyone who claims to be religious should read their holy books to know that latter day saints do not have a monopoly on sexual conservatism. Plus, we’re nearly two decades into the new millennium. And while I cherish my faith and adore the lessons the church has bestowed upon me, I make my own choices. Not my family, not the church, not Joseph Smith or Brigham Young, not even Heavenly Father or the Messiah themselves. I may not be as proper or orthodox as my family would like to believe, but I do believe that Heavenly Father is a benevolent being who would understand where I’m coming from, and even if he doesn’t, the good I do in the world outweighs any harm I may be doing, and so far as I can see, there isn’t any harm to be found here.”
Tristan smiled. “Fair enough, my darling,” he said candidly. “Where then do we stand.”
Bethany furrowed her brow and wrinkled her lips, thinking a moment. Then, in two swift motions, she cast off both Tristan’s and her robes. They stood before each other, bare as the day they were born.
And then: “Mrreow?”
Bethany pinched the bridge of her nose. “Right. We’re not alone.”
Tristan opened his bedroom door, chuckling, and Gilgamesh slinked out and scampered off. “He’ll be hungry,” said Tristan. He then turned his attention to Bethany, his eyes full to the brim with lust as he scanned every curve of her figure. Bethany suddenly felt bashful and was about to cover herself, but she resisted the urge. She glanced as well and, as her eyes made their way down his body, she couldn’t stop her eyes from bulging. Good golly gosh, she thought to herself. Is that normal?? How is ANYBODY supposed to handle that... appendage?? Let alone someone who’s never... oh boy, oh gosh, gee whiz, what have I gotten myself—
“Turn around,” he commanded, simply. Bethany obeyed, turning to face away from him, her heart racing exponentially faster than it was the night before. She felt him slowly approach her, and before she knew it, his hands had made their way under her arms and were now caressing and massaging her sizable bosoms. As he kissed her neck, he let his fingers move to her nipples and massage them in little circles.
“Oh my, oh wow,” she said breathlessly, lost in the moment. She reached over her shoulders to caress his neck and run her fingers through his hair. With a shudder, she realized what was pressed against her backside; it felt even larger than it looked, if such a phenomenon was even possible. As he continued to kiss her neck, he allowed one of his hands to make its way down below her breasts, gently caress her stomach for a brief moment, until, with a sharp gasp from Bethany, he reached the place that no man prior had touched before.
Bethany hadn’t realized how unspeakably wet she was until his finger slid inside of her and she almost came right at that moment. “Don’t stop,” she breathed. “Don’t you dare stop.”
For a moment, he paused, and in her ear, declared in a whisper, “I’ll stop if I choose to.” But for the moment, it would appear that such was not his choice as he alternated between fingering her and rubbing her clitoris, sometimes at the same time by letting his middle finger slide inside of her while he massaged her love button with his thumb. Bethany could feel her fluids literally running down her legs. “I’m close. Oh... Oh! I’m so close...”
And with that, he made good on his declaration, removing his hand from her nether regions. Though she whimpered disappointedly at first, he spun her around and took one of her nipples in his mouth while massaging her butt. Oh my bloody goodness this is nearly as good as what he was doing before! she thought, her mind reeling. Then he pulled back and they stared into one another’s eyes for a moment. We still haven’t kissed, she realized, and just at that moment, they plunged upon one another’s lips, kissing ferociously. Bethany dragged her fingers along his back while he needed her voluptuous bottom. Bethany could feel him between her legs, not inside but running along the slit, driving her mad for more.
Tristan broke off the kiss. “On your knees,” he commanded. Bethany didn’t need to be told twice, nor did she need further directions. She found her way to her knees and stared at it. Massive, veiny in all the right ways, with a delightfully engorged mushroom tip glistening with pre-cum, she immediately took it in her mouth. Though she had never done so before, passion and enthusiasm make up for skill any day, and Tristan found himself in ecstasy. She may not have been able to take all of him in her mouth—there were few if any who could—but she worked the tip with her lips and tongue more than effectively, using both hands to masturbate his shaft while she sucked him off.
Tristan grabbed her head and began to thrust, slowly at first and then more aggressively. He was impressed that not only did she not gag or choke, but that her vigor was not remotely dimmed by this newfound aggression. Feeling his orgasm rising, he stepped back from her. Though she seemed mildly dejected, he knew that she would not feel that way for very long, as confirmed by the next words to leave his mouth: “Your turn.”
Thrilled with the prospect of what was to follow, Bethany laid back on the bed, spread eagle for him to devour. She closed her eyes and squirmed as the lips on his face met the lips between her legs and he began to use his tongue to work his magic on her. Given the buildup, there was little work to be done. “Oh I’m even closer than before I can’t believe this oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my—” He pulled up.
“You don’t have permission to finish unless I’m inside of you,” he said, wiping his li
ps with his forearm and rising to his feet. As he stood, Bethany looked down to see that his swollen penis was right at her entrance. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”
As an answer, Bethany hooked her legs behind him, pulling him toward her. Because of how aroused and soaked she already was, he slid in with ease. Never having had something inside of her previously and given his gargantuan length and girth, Bethany nearly blacked out. Tristan didn’t waste any time moving in and out, very slowly but letting her appreciate his full length with every push and pull. “It hurts so good,” Bethany said through her teeth as he picked up his pace. She could barely stand it anymore; she was right on the edge. “Finish anywhere but inside of me, I don’t care where else, do as you please,” she said between grunts. “But go as fast and as hard as you can!” she shrieked. “Be relentless! Be the demigod you claim to be! Be—oooohhhh myyy GOODDDDD!!!!” and with her first use of the lord’s name in vain that she could remember, the orgasm crashed over her like the father of all tidal waves. She squealed incoherently as a series of orgasms rattled through her body, one violent and wondrous burst after the other.
Just as she was coming down, Tristan said, “Open your mouth and close your eyes.”
Still ferociously aroused, she obeyed, and she felt hot semen land all over her. On her face, across her eyelids, in her mouth, all over her breasts, and the final ropes of streamed across her stomach. Thinking it was over, she breathed a sigh of satisfied relief, only to be shocked to feel his tongue between her legs yet again. “What are you—oh, how? How?! How can I— oh SHIIIITTT!!!” to her astonishment, a more concentrated orgasm shattered her clit. Her head spun and her mind raced. It was beyond anything she could fathom.
And then it was over.
They both panted, and he curled up next to her.
“That,” she said, out of breath, “has to be the best defloration anybody has ever experienced,” she said.
“Seems that way,” said Tristan. “And you weren’t half bad yourself,” he added.
“Given that you ejaculated enough to impregnate the planet about fifty times over—with fraternal twins and triplets, I might add—yeah, I’d say I had a strong impact on you.”
“Indeed you did,” he said, smirking eye to eye. “Indeed you did.”
“So,” she said. “Cuddle? Or shower.”
“Cuddle then shower?” suggested Tristan.
“I’m game,” she said.
“Oh and one more thing,” he said.
“Yes?”
“Let’s have Christmas here. Or more specifically, at your house or my sister’s house.”
“Yes!! I love it!” she exclaimed, jolly as can be. “Although...”
“What?”
“Well, my family was already planning to come up. Are you sure you’re ready to meet them?”
Tristan shrugged. “We have been together for a few months now. I’m ready if you are.”
“I think I’m game,” she said. “This will certainly be a Christmas to remember!”
And off they went to shower.
Chapter 10: Honeywell
“What’s different about her?” asked Honeywell. “With respect, she seems very pleasant, but otherwise unremarkable.”
“You may want to measure your words slightly more carefully, Ms. Honeywell,” said Tristan.
The two of them were riding in the back of a limousine en route to a conference Tristan was co-sponsoring with Elon Musk. They had covered all their bases but still had another forty-five minutes on the ride, so Honeywell was taking the opportunity to voice concerns that had lingered in her mind for some time now. “I’ve been by your side for over fifteen years, Tristan,” said Honeywell, “and not once in that time have you stayed with a woman for this long. Most wouldn’t last for more than an evening, often accompanied by a third party, and the especially lucky ones would be allowed breakfast the next morning. What makes Bethany Ballard special?”
Tristan smiled, his eyes sparkling behind his pink sunglasses. “Would you like the simple, honest explanation? Or would you prefer my more convoluted hypothesis?”
“I’m sure even your simple explanation will still find a way to baffle me, so let’s start there and then work toward your hypothesis.”
Tristan’s smile widened. “Are you sure you’re ready for my honest answer to what it is about Bethany that has gotten under my skin?”
“I’m waiting with bated breath,” said Honeywell dryly.
“I don’t know.”
Silence. Honeywell stared at him from behind her horned-rim glasses, pursing her lips. “What do you mean, you don’t know. You know everything. You’ve always known everything. And even when you didn’t know everything, you believed you did, or found a correct answer so quickly that your status as all-knowing was immediately rectified. You’re both too smart and too arrogant to have ever said you don’t know to any question in decades.”
“But isn’t that delightful?” said Tristan.
“How is that delightful?” pressed Honeywell.
“Think about it,” said Tristan. “I have never been truly stumped. Everything always makes some amount of sense to me. But at the same time, I have always felt so separated from everybody else. Yet with Bethany, I feel connected and I can’t explain why. Do you have any idea how boring and tedious life can be with a mind like mine? I always assumed that I would need to meet someone who blew me out of the water with some sort of divine...” he searched for the word, but failed, “...something. But Bethany is just Bethany, and I couldn’t want anything more. And it doesn’t make that much sense, but I suppose that is the nature of love.”
“I’m sorry, did you just say love?” demanded Honeywell.
“Indeed I did,” he said calmly.
“Have you told her you love her yet?”
“I haven’t seen the need to yet.”
Honeywell scoffed. “Even when you’re being romantic you are so utterly un-romantic,” she said with disdain.
“Love isn’t easily quantified,” said Tristan. “How do you measure it? For instance, if someone is willing to die to save a loved one, does that vindicate said affection? And yet, I’m sure many a delusional stalker would take a bullet for the object of their creepy affection. So is that love? Is love quantified by choosing the happiness or well-being of one loved one over another? By how much time you spend with them? By how happy they make you or vice-versa? How is happiness measured? There are too many variables. Even I can’t calculate them all. When it comes down to it, love is something that is known only when we experience it, and we can come up with every rationalization or justification for it, but I suppose it simply is. And even then, there is a certain trust required that may never be fully supported. I loathe the notion of ‘faith’ but a lot of love does in fact boil down to that. So,” he said, finishing, “I don’t know why I am willing to settle down with Bethany Ballard. She is incredible in many ways, ordinary in others, but she is mine and I am hers. Maybe no other explanation is required other than that this is what my heart chooses.” He sighed. “Honeywell, I am growing soft; I resent using the heart as a metaphor.”
“Yea I know the yucky feeling here is mutual,” said Honeywell with a wrinkled nose. “But whatever. You do you, boss.”
“I always have and always will,” he laughed. “I’m going to close my eyes for a bit. Adieu, Honeywell.”
* * *
“Are you sure Mr. Blackwood would be okay with this?” asked a nervous Rick Garcia.
“Of course he wouldn’t be ok with this,” said Honeywell stiffly. It was the next day, and she was speaking with the company’s top security tech.
“Isn’t it also, you know, super-dee-duper illegal as balls?”
“That it may be but I can guarantee you full legal protection. I am your direct supervisor. If this goes south, I will take the heat, both legally and from Mr. Blackwood.”
“Can I, um, get that in writing?” he asked nervously.
“Something
can be arranged,” said Honeywell curtly. “So again, repeat back to me what your assignment is until told otherwise?” He mumbled his reply. “I’m sorry, could you please repeat that? Enunciate, if you would.”
“You... you want me to spy on Bethany Ballard,” he said nervously.
“Precisely,” said Honeywell. “Spare no expense. I expect reports weekly. This is need-to-know only. Thank you, and good luck. Here’s to hoping I am being paranoid for no reason.”
She left him to his work.
Chapter 11: Christmas Festivities
“Sleigh bells riiiiing are you listeninnnn’” came the radio as a particularly jolly Bethany put the finishing touches on her lawn’s nativity scene with the help of her younger brother, Joel, who had arrived earlier than the rest of his family as he was on break from university.
“I’m loving this finished result!” said Bethany giddily, practically dancing with glee as she looked at their gorgeous, life-size presentation.
“I did all the heavy lifting,” grumbled Joel, though Bethany definitely saw the smirk beneath his beard. Joel was a big guy, well over six feet tall, with a husky frame and red hair all over his body.
“Blah-dee-blah,” dismissed Bethany. “Team work makes the dream work.”
“Dealing in cliches now sis?”
“When they’re contextually appropriate, sure!” she replied, confidently. “And besides, I strung up all these colorful lights BEFORE you even arrived, mister!”
“Yup, it’s the most delightful pastel nightmare I’ve ever witnessed. Plus you have those tacky animatronic light-up reindeer right next to the nativity.” He shook his head. “Though I see your neighbor is going for something a bit more streamlined, yet somehow even more excessive.”
