F*cking Awkward (18 page)

“I feel like a feast here.” I prop myself up on my elbows and smile down at him.

“You look fucking delicious.” He leans forward, taking a nipple into his mouth while rolling the other one between the pad of his thumb and finger. His teeth slowly sink down around my nipple, causing a rippling effect to shoot through my body. My hips buck up to meet some sort of release but find none.

“Lay down, Scout. It’s my turn to taste you.”

Oh, shit. Oh, shit. He’s going downtown. I slowly relax back until my back is pressed against the table. Paxton spreads my legs, places my feet on top of the table, and dips low until I feel his breathing on my opening. His growls and sexy grunts turn me on and also give me confidence to not stop him. His tongue hits my clit and then delves deeper into me. Paxton combines his teeth and a sucking motion until I’m crying out for Jesus and bucking up to him. His fingers join the movement, opening me further for him.

“Paxton, I’m going to…”

Before I finish my last thought, he buries two fingers in me, and curls his fingers until he has me buzzing out of control and screaming his name.

“Holy fuck, Scout.” Paxton joins me on the table, covering my body. “That was fucking hot.”

“Thank you, Jesus.”

“You’re so welcome. You were so sweet and ready.” Paxton kisses each corner of my mouth until his lips are covering mine and making love to my mouth.

I don’t have the courage to tell him that there’s been no live cock action in my life for the last several months, but just crumby porn and a dildo. There’s been no dinner, Netflix, or a slight chill between us up until this moment, but intense sexting and now carnal acts.

I push up on his shoulders and admire his swollen and wet lips. “Cock in me now.”

Paxton immediately leaves me and I swivel my head to watch his movements. He picks up his jeans from the floor and digs around in his pockets until he pulls out a foil package. We make eye contact and both smile. Hell, I don’t even remember him taking his pants off after the heated induced passion.

He grabs my wrist until I’m in a sitting position and pulls me from the table and places me back down on a low countertop. He slides the condom on like it’s a natural action for him. My face heats up as I watch him handle his cock. It may be the hottest thing I’ve ever watched; Paxton McNeal holding his cock, readying it for me.

I curl both of my lips in, biting down on them to control the naughty things I want to scream, like fuck me now. Paxton nudges me back on the counter and wraps one free arm low around my waist to steady me. The head of his cock nudges my entrance and I’ve lost all my damn patience with this fast paced make-out/fuck session.

I lunge forward until he’s fully seated in me and then let my wild screams go. My hand goes between us and begins to rub my clit. I can’t stand another moment without Paxton fucking me. My heel kicks his ass and Paxton finally comes to the party. He moves slow and precise at first until I pick up the speed of my hand. Paxton begins pounding into me and it only takes a few seconds of it before I fall over the cliff into a blissful orgasm.

I go limp back on the counter, relishing the lingering feel of my orgasm as Paxton pounds harder and harder into me.

“Fuck, Scout.” Paxton wraps both arms around my back and picks me up again, pushing my back against a wall.

My arms wrap tight around his neck, holding on for dear life. Paxton never stops his delicious rhythm with me up in the air. My mouth covers his and I kiss the hell out of him to mask my screams as the next orgasm hits me hard.

Paxton finally pulls back. “I’m not going to last much longer, babe.”

Babe. Did he just call me babe? Oh fuck, my ovaries just melted.

He pulls me from the wall with my legs still securely wrapped around his hips until he lays me back down on the table. The table instantly cools my sweaty back. Paxton covers my body in one quick movement. I roll my head to the side and thank God for this amazing night.

Paxton starts out slow, rolling his hips in a sexy movement. I lay back and relax enjoying each one of his movements until he has my body wound up once again and ready to implode. He dips his head and begins nipping on the sensitive skin on my neck. Paxton sucks a bit too hard and I know he’ll leave behind a mark, but I don’t have the willpower to stop him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I buck my hips up to his, trying to grind on him. “I’m going to go again, Paxton.”

My fingers dig into the top of his shoulders as I feel the impending orgasm lingering.

“Go, baby, go. I’m so close.” Paxton picks up his pace until he throws me into a screaming puddle of goo below him.

Every single one of my muscles relax and feel satisfied as Paxton never slows his pace and growls out his pleasure. My hands tangle in his damp blonde locks.

BAM.

Paxton freezes.

“What was that?” I ask.

“Oh, shit.” Paxton leaps from the table and then everything else is a complete fucking cluster fuck.

I watch Paxton dart down a hallway and vanish. I try to perch up on my elbows and slide around a bit on the sweat-slicked table and that’s when I come face to face with Mr. McNeal as in the Mr. McNeal that is Paxton’s dad as in Mr. McNeal my co-worker and elementary PE teacher at Ontario Elementary. His face is perfectly framed between my bent and very spread legs.

Fucking Paxton darted and threw me to the wolves. Where in the hell did he go?

“Scout?” Mr. McNeal’s deep voice fills the kitchen.

Wave? Play deaf? Pretend a seizure? For the love of fuck, what do I do? Close my legs should be first on the agenda and then cover up the girls.

“I told you to grab it before we left. It’s Jackson’s first Easter, dammit.” Paxton’s mom pushes past his dad. “Oh, dear.”

Kill me now, God, I’m begging you. Zap me to hell now and let me burn.

As lady like as possible I close my legs, slowly sit up, and then cover my girls with my arm and grab the Easter basket to place over my beaver. My damp freshly fucked blonde hair falls around my shoulders and the deer in headlights look remains plastered on my face, not knowing what to do or say.

I need an Easter miracle here, Jesus. I’ll even send you a birthday card.

“We forgot our grandson’s Easter basket.” Paxton’s dad points to the basket now covering my coochie.

Could things get any worse? Oh, they can get so much worse! The basket has seen better days, with the handle broken off and my boob imprint smooshed into a chocolate rabbit. The basket looks like the ol’ Easter Bunny had one too many shots of Vodka before delivering it.

“Here.” I hold out the basket with shaky hands and exposed lady bits.

I’m going to cut Paxton’s balls off and hang them from my mirror if he doesn’t get down here and save me.

Mr. McNeal tries to conceal a smile and Paxton’s mom is less than amused as she rips the shredded basket from my hands and turns on her heels. She vanishes down the same hallway as Paxton did. Mr. McNeal remains in place with his hands tucked in his pockets. He does his best job to stare up at the ceiling and I sit fucking naked on his dining room table twiddling my thumbs.

My clothes are scattered all over the kitchen. I could leap off the table and gather them then run like hell, but I’d be giving him so many more shots of parts I don’t want to even see.

“George, get your ass in here,” Paxton’s mom’s voice streams loud and clear from the hallway she vanished to.

I let out a long pent up breath of air when he hustles down the magic vanishing hallway like his asshole son did.

I leap off the table like my ass is on fire and jump into my panties and the rest of my clothes. Their conversation isn’t very subtle at all.

“I’m twenty-four, Mom.”

“I don’t care how old you are and how much sex you’re having, but I’d rather you not hump on your nephew’s Easter basket and my damn dining room table.”

Oh, god. Oh, god. I’m changing my name, zip code, and moving to a far off island.

By the time I slip into my sandals, I freeze when I hear my name being hollered.

“Scout.”

It’s his mom. Fuck, if it was his dad or the jackass himself, I’d bolt without a guilty conscious. My hand’s on the back door when all three of them come around the corner and I feel naked all over again with my pussy greeting them into their own home.

“We’re leaving. You two can pick up where you left off. Please just limit the dirty deed to his bed.” She brushes past me like she’s never seen my pussy up close and personal. Mr. McNeal is on her heels, now fighting back laughter.

“Oh, and Scout, you need to get that mole on your left boob checked out,” Paxton’s mom says as she walks out the door with her trashed Easter basket in hand.

The door slams and the amazing disappearing Paxton steps up to me.

“Don’t.” I raise my hand to him and walk through the large home until I find the door I entered through.

“Scout, I’m so sorry.”

“You should be sorry since your father just got an up close shot of my lady locker.”

“I thought they were going to be gone until Monday morning.”

“Karma’s a bitch, Paxton.” I throw open the door. “But thanks for the amazing three orgasms.”
I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.

Wednesday Morning at Ontario Elementary

“Are you serious?” Olivia’s olive skin turns pale as I finish up my Easter humping tale.

“Dead serious. Now do you know why I’ll babysit your little rat first graders if you walk my class to PE? And I’ll even throw in packing our lunches for a month.”

Olivia’s only response is her hyena uncontrollable laughter drawing everyone’s attention to us. Everyone in the staff room now has their eyes on us. The tears stream down Olivia’s cheeks.

“Naked,” she barely gets out.

I kick her under the table because she has no clue we have a full house audience and I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t give a shit since it’s usually her in these mortifying situations. Her laughter finally calms down and everyone else goes back to their heated up left over meals and newspapers. Being the youngest on the staff has some perks.

“So?” I ask her.

Olivia begins to open her mouth and then her eyes grow to the size of golf balls. Swiveling in my seat, I turn to see what has her attention. Mr. fucking McNeal.

“Hello, ladies. Just need to warm up my fish.” He waggles his eyebrows and bites down on the longest and biggest dill pickle I’ve ever seen; looks just like his son’s…

D
ear Reader
,

I hope you enjoyed Chapter 1 of “I Shaved My Legs For This?” Scout’s story is shaping up to be just as hilarious as Olivia’s in “The Big O”. And don’t you worry, you’ll get plenty of Olivia, Officer Lady Boner, and Pedro in Scout’s Story.

Love,

HJB

F
ollow all things
HJB on
authorhjb.com

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W
hen is
the last time you fucked your wife?

That shouldn’t even be a question for a man like me. A man who loves his wife as much as I do.

Know how long it’s been for me?

Months.

Nearly two to be exact.

But it feels like fucking years at this point. If it’s not the kids cock-blocking me, it’s our friends, her parents, her job.

The goddamn dog.

Don’t get me wrong, we have sex.

Lots of sex.

But it’s the quiet kind.

The sneaky kind.

The kind where you just can’t…

Let go.

Scratch.

Scream.

Spank.

Tear at each other like animals. I know that sounds barbaric as fuck, but I don’t care.

I need to
fuck
my wife.

And I don’t mean lay her down in a bed and fuck her, I mean…

Fuck.
Her.

On every surface.

Climb every wall.

The boys have gone to my in-laws for the night, and I’ve planned a romantic dinner at home.

Alone.

Rubbing my ever-present hard-on, I groan. I just hope I can hold out

for dessert.

I’ve even gone as far as soliciting the help of her best friend Katy. Though, she didn’t have to do much convincing in order to drag Maddie away from work for a spa day. I’m glad she gave in. The woman needs time to herself every now and then. This new case she’s working on has been hard, and my baby has been stressed.

I look down at my straining cock.

It’s been hard on all of us.

Tonight, I’m going to take her mind off of that and everything else going on in our crazy little perfect life.

Shut out the world and just be…

Us
.

I’m expecting her home any minute. The dining room table is set.

Strategically placed candles offer a romantic glow, something I know she will appreciate, and will have her slipping those pretty pink panties off faster than I can smack that ass.

Tonight…

She’s mine.

I
’m greeted
by the smell of dinner when I walk through the garage door and into the house. I smile, recognizing the meal right away.

My favorite.

The lack of chattering from two unruly boys immediately garners my attention. All I hear is Stapleton crooning “Tennessee Whiskey” and that’s enough to make me smile even bigger, excitement fluttering in my belly.

I make my way into the kitchen and Holden spots me immediately, quickly taking me into his arms. Before I can draw in the air needed to speak, his lips claim mine and my back kisses a wall.

His tongue is a force of nature.

Demanding.

Controlling.

So fucking hot.

When his blue eyes meet mine, they glimmer with heat and a whole lot of need. “I really want to feed you first, babe.” He massages my neck with his hand. “I really fucking do. But I’m not sure I can sit across from you long enough to consume food and not eat
you
instead. What do you say I fuck you now and we eat later?”

Is it possible to love this man more than I already do?

I smirk, thinking of all the naughty little things he’s got planned for me. He may be a simple man but there’s no lack of imagination on his part whatsoever.

“Where are the boys?” I ask, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Your parents’.”

“Whatcha cookin’?”

“Grilled chicken tacos with some of that hot salsa you love so much.”

I groan, making a big show of it. “I don’t know. I think I wanna eat first. I’m so hungry.” My mouth is on his neck now, licking.

Tasting.

His grin is exceptionally wicked as he bends at the waist, hands moving to my knees to inch my skirt up. He could have easily unzipped it, but it’s clear…

My man means business.

“Don’t tease me. That will get you bent over the table before you can dip your first chip.”

Our table has seen a lot of miles. It’s his favorite surface in the whole damn house. Something about it being the perfect height and just the right kind of wobble
.

One hand dips between my legs, long fingers seeking.

Eager.

Pulling my panties aside, they glide easily through my wet flesh and I moan, the sound cutting through my throat desperately as I lose myself in the heat of his touch.

It grows hotter.

And hotter.

Until…

“Owwwwwwwwww… Holy fuck!”

“Fuck yes, baby. Scream for me.”

“Holy fucking hell!”

Holden stiffens as I cry out again, realizing my screams aren’t born of pleasure but ungodly pain. I push him away, scrambling to close my legs.

“What is it, babe?”

“My vagina! It’s on fire!”

“On fire?”

“Burning. Jesus Christ. I’m dying!” I look around, searching for relief, but my eyes land on a bundle of peppers instead. “Holden, did you wash your hands?”

“Well yeah, but…” He trails off, his face stricken with guilt. “Aw fuck!”

“What?”

“Shit! I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinkin’. I shoulda wore gloves. But all I could think about was makin’ you scream.”

“Well, you succeeded in that.” I can see the remorse heavy in his eyes, and I howl in frustration once more.

I don’t care how sorry he is right now, this shit burns like a motherfucker, and I want him to die!

“I know you didn’t mean to do it,” I breathe through the pain. “Just figure out a way to help make it stop.” I cup my vagina and cross my legs. “Hurry up! My vagina is falling off, Holden. My vagina should not be falling off!”

“Your vagina better not fall the fuck off,” he says, looking around the room. For what? I have no fucking clue, but he better find it.

“It feels like there’s a million paper cuts between my legs and some demon of Satan is pouring lime juice all over them.”

This is a special kind of pain. The kind of pain you
never
forget.

Like childbirth.

Or an unexpected dick in the ass.

“Guess that gives a whole new meaning to fire down below, huh?” He smirks.

Narrowing my eyes, I silently plot his imminent death.

That puts his ass in gear.

“Okay, okay. Lemme think.”

He rushes over to the fridge, staring blankly inside before finally pulling out a jug of milk like it’s the answer to everything.

“Are you kidding me?” I shriek.

He shrugs. “Or we can stuff it full of bread?”

“I swear, if I wasn’t in so much pain I would kick you in the nuts!”

He fishes his phone from the pocket of his jeans. “Stay calm. No need for violence. Google will know what to do. Surely, I’m not the only idiot who has fingered his wife after handling Serrano peppers.”

Lord, I hate to think of the many women who have suffered this same fate. I take a couple of deep breaths, trying to breathe past the pain, but it only seems to get worse by the second.

“Yep, I am not alone. Tim from Tampa says to try yogurt.”

“Holden, I’m not putting food in my vagina. Fuck Google, fuck Tim, and fuck you!”

“But it’ll be so much fun to clean up.”

“I really hate you right now. I’m never giving you another blow job as long as I live.”

“Okay, now that’s just crazy talk.”

“Holden, please,” I beg.

“Wait…here’s one where they took a milk bath. Says it works pretty fast. The casein in milk binds with the oil in the peppers and washes it away.”

“Then you better haul ass to the store and buy all the milk they have, damn it. Before I die.”

He snatches the keys from the counter, kissing me on his way out the door. “I’ll make this up to ya, babe. I swear.”

“You better.”

I
t’s been
a week since the incident. That’s what we’re calling it anyway. Thankfully, the milk worked. The burning subsided rather quickly and surprisingly, it does amazing things for your skin. I’d been hesitant to let him touch me intimately ever since. It’s hard
not
to associate my husband’s fingers with indescribable pain. And he does a lot with those fingers.

Crazy, sexy, hot, wonderful things.

I need to move past it.

Enough is enough.

This morning had been the final straw, watching him get the boys ready for school. He walked around the house with his shirt off the entire time, taunting me. Those damn low-hanging jeans made my mouth water, accenting those divots I love to worship. If I didn’t have to be in court so early, I would have jumped his bones when he got back from dropping off the boys, but as usual, work got in the way.

This has been the longest we’ve ever gone without having sex since the boys were born, and it’s killing me. I’ve grown accustomed to dirty little quickies in the pantry and being bent over the couch when the boys are at school or playing outside.

It doesn’t have to be rainbows and butterflies all the time. Don’t get me wrong, I need him to make love to me sometimes. I think we all need the gentleness of a lover between hot, dirty fucks, whether it be a kiss or a touch. Something as simple as a whisper can provide such a deep level of intimacy between a couple, but it’s the delicate border of pleasure and pain that really exposes us, that allows us to open up to one another on the most basic, primal level.

Like when Holden is slapping my ass and pulling my hair, whispering words of adoration and degradation in my ear.

The man can build a fire inside of me like no one else.

Shifting my legs beneath the table, I sigh.

“How’s your steak?” he asks.

Shoving the plate away, I frown. “Not as good as yours.”

We agreed on supper out this time. Safer this way. Especially if I was going to let him touch me tonight.

“We can go to the Dip if you want.”

“Well, why didn’t you suggest that before?”

“Because I wanted to sit down and have a nice, quiet meal with my wife without having to play referee to the boys.”

He’s so full of shit.

“You’re trying to get laid tonight, aren’t you?”

He shifts in his seat, adjusting himself with a pained expression on his face. “I’m fuckin’ dyin’, babe.”

I lean forward on a harsh whisper. “Will you keep your voice down?”

“Will you take your panties off?”

Of course, our server chose that exact moment to return to our table. That shit-eating grin on his face told me he’d heard what Holden said.

So fucking awkward.

The man has no shame.

“Can I interest y’all in any dessert?” he asks.

“Oh, I’m gonna have dessert all right.”

I kick Holden’s leg under the table, handing the server my half-eaten steak. “Check please.”

“Of course, ma’am.” He smirks, skipping off.

I kick Holden again but he doesn’t even flinch. “You ass.”

“What?”

“You’re
so
not getting laid tonight.”

“Oh yes, I am.”

I smile sweetly. “We’ll see.”

I
pay the bill
, leaving dude one hell of a tip, and I’m pretty sure one

hell of a mental picture, then I lead my wife to the truck. I don’t say a word on the way home, allowing the tension to build even further. She’s all talk.