“This is so not professional. We are the worst business women in the world,” Claire complains with a sigh.
“Do you guys really have a business selling sex toys and these yummy desserts?” I ask.
Liz nods. “We do. And it’s pretty awesome.”
“OH MY GOSH! MY TONGUE IS SO TINGLY!” my mother shouts from across the room, sticking her tongue out of her mouth and crossing her eyes to try and look down her nose at it.
“Can I just say, your family is really insane,” Claire tells me softly as my mother suddenly grabs a floppy, rubber, twelve-inch long dildo and starts swinging it around above her head like a lasso. “I thought our family was weird, but yours might beat them.”
I just nod my head again, when Claire suddenly looks down at the plate of cookies in her hand.
“Oh, shit,” she mutters, looking up at me as I lick my fingers clean from the chocolate cookie I just finished. “Um, so, there might have been a little mix-up with the cookies back at the bakery.”
I smile at her, not really paying attention to what she’s saying since I now have the horror of watching my mother examine multicolored butt plugs, asking if they’re giant pacifiers.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you just ate a pot cookie,” Claire continues.
I don’t really hear much after that aside from Claire and Liz arguing about someone named Drew and how he must have made a cookie switch before they left the store because he’s an asshole. I start to panic about being high in a room full of my family and sex toys, but after an hour and still not feeling any different, I realize Claire must have been mistaken and shrug it off.
“BRIGHT LIGHT, BRIGHT LIGHT!” I shout in a high-pitch voice, sounding a little too much like Gizmo in The Gremlins, which makes me dissolve into giggles.
Sam quickly flips the light switch back off and my parent’s laundry room darkens, the glow of a night-light plugged into one wall giving us just enough light to see what we’re doing.
His big, warm hands grab my hips and he turns me around to face him, lifting me up and setting me down gently on top of the washing machine.
As soon as I thought I was safe from pot cookie hell, I’d excused myself from the room when the presentation for butt plugs began, snuck down the hall, and got Sam’s attention away from my brother and Alex by silently waving my hands in the air and nodding my head in the direction of the laundry room. Thank God he quickly got the hint before all that head nodding made the room spin and I puked all over the hallway. As soon as I grabbed his hand and started pulling him toward the laundry room, all hell broke loose in my head. It went a little something like this:
Not high.
Not high.
Not high.
Still not high.
Not high.
Please take me to the emergency room.
I’m in a really conflicted place right now of trying to decide if I’m dying, really want to have sex, or should spend the next six hours staring at the wall contemplating life with deep thoughts. It’s probably best if I go with the sex.
Leaning back on my hands, Sam immediately sticks his fingers into the waistband of my leggings and yanks them down and over my ankles, throwing them on top of a basket of clean clothes down by his feet. Even in the dimly lit room, the heat in his eyes is crystal clear as he stares at his hands while they slide up my bare thighs, parting them as he goes and pushing his body between them.
“You’re so fucking hot,” I mumble, running my hand down the side of his clean-shaven face.
“That’s supposed to be my line.” He smiles, the tips of his fingers softly tracing over top of me through the lace of my underwear.
I wrap my legs around his waist while he continues to skim his fingers up and down the thin, delicate fabric, barely touching me with just a whisper of feeling but more than enough to make my stomach flip-flop and my pussy clench with need.
“You’re already wet, baby,” he whispers. “I can feel you soaking through this thong.”
Have I mentioned lately how much I love it when he talks dirty? I’m going to buy him an entire Goddamn library of those romance novels if that’s where he’s learns the shit he says.
His fingers move to the edge of my thong, pushing it to the side just enough to expose me and the wetness he just mentioned that happens every time I’m within ten feet of him.
I moan loudly, squeezing my eyes closed and dropping my head back when he uses the fingers on his other hand to tease and play with me. His middle finger slowly slides up and down the outer lips of my pussy, spreading the wetness around my clit as he goes. My hips jerk against his hand and thank God everyone out in the living room is still busy screaming and laughing, because there’s no way in hell I can be quiet right now.
Bringing one arm off the washing machine, I grab onto Sam’s shoulder and dig my nails into his skin when he slowly pushes two, thick fingers inside of me, his thumb just barely flicking over my clit as he enters me. I finally manage to open my eyes and see that he’s staring down between my legs where his fingers are easing in and out of me. I always used to get embarrassed when a guy I was sleeping with would look at me and want to see everything, but not with Sam. With Sam, it’s so fucking hot to see him watching what he does to me, concentrating on bringing me pleasure and getting his own satisfaction from witnessing me fall apart.
So, this is what it’s like to really love someone…
“I could do this all day, every day,” he says softly, his eyes never moving away from what he’s doing and mine finally join in. I watch my hips rise up to meet his fingers, helping him push deeper inside of me. I watch his fingers slowly slide out of me, covered in my wetness. And I watch the thick pad of this thumb lazily swirl around my clit in a steady rhythm that is sure to make me scream any minute now.
“I love how fucking wet you get, how good you feel against my fingers when I fuck them into you,” he mutters softly, almost in wonder, like he can’t believe he gets to do this whenever he wants.
It melts my heart and it almost melts my lace thong the rest of the way off my body. He starts pumping his fingers faster in and out of me and I quickly feel my clit swelling and all the nerves in my pussy start tingling.
“Fuck, gonna come. Need you. Inside me,” I mumble almost incoherently when my hips start jerking erratically against his hand.
I whimper so loudly when he yanks his fingers out of my body that I have to clamp my hand over my mouth. I hear the rrrrrrriiiippp of him unzipping the zipper on his camouflage military pants and pull my bent knees toward me, using my feet to help him slide the waist of his them down to his thighs.
“Is this like, the equivalent of burning the flag?” I suddenly ask, the pot really messing with my brain and making my head spin with worry.
Sam laughs and shifts his body closer to mine, grabbing my ankles and moving my legs back around his waist. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He thrusts his hips forward, bringing his cock right up against me and continues to move slowly, sliding his length through my wetness.
I groan in pleasure, but still a little nervous. “You know, because you’re wearing your uniform. Is it frowned upon to fuck when you’re wearing this thing?”
He leans forward, placing his hands on either side of my hips on top of the washing machine, and peppers a trail of kisses across my cheek and down the length of my neck.
“I’m pretty sure if Uncle Sam were here right now, he would totally approve. Since this isn’t my dress uniform, we should be in the clear.”
I nod in relief, tightening my thighs around his hips and draping my arms over his shoulders.
“Sorry, Uncle Sam, but I’m going to fuck one of your men like an animal right now,” I whisper, my head falling back when Sam uses his teeth to nibble gentle against the side of my neck.
He suddenly pulls away from me and my head comes back up to see him grab something from behind me, holding it up between us. A huge smile takes over his face and he
winks at me.
“Nice. Crotchless panties. Why aren’t you wearing these right now?” he asks.
I grimace, shaking my head at him.
“Uh, those aren’t mine. Those are my mother’s.”
His eyes widen and he chucks them across the room like they just caught on fire.
“Shit! Shit, shit, shit!” he curses, both of our heads dropping forward and our eyes landing on his penis still pressed up against me, already starting to lose a little of its hardness.
“Say something hot! SAY SOMETHING HOT!” he shouts in a panic.
No, no, no! Why in the hell did I bring up my mother again! Why didn’t I just lie and say they were mine?
“Uh, um, porn! Pussy! Dick and pussy!” I shout back, my brain losing all function at the thought that once again, my mother has fucked up my sex life.
Sam’s hand quickly flies to his dick, wrapping around the girth to try and stop it from dying.
“Fuck me right in the pussy!” I yell, feeling like a complete moron that I can’t come up with anything better.
“Isn’t that what that one guy always says who photo-bombs all those news anchors?” Sam suddenly asks.
“FOCUS, SAM!”
Skin-on-skin contact, that’s what we need! Leaning forward, I grab the hem of his shirt and yank it up. Sam lets out the most blood curdling, girly scream I’ve ever heard when the material gets caught on something. I ignore him and tug harder, figuring maybe he’s just cold and wasn’t prepared to take his shirt off.
“SON OF A MOTHER FUCKING BITCH!” he shouts, his hands grabbing mine to get me to stop trying to take his shirt off.
“What the hell is wrong with you? Let me take your shirt off!”
“NOOOOO! It’s stuck! Sweet Jesus, it’s stuck! Is this pain what childbirth is like? I’m thinking it is. It hurts all the way down to my balls,” he complains, smacking my hands away and gently untangling his shirt from whatever the fuck it’s attached to.
He winces and curses until he’s finally able to pull the shirt up to his neck, and I finally get a look at what the problem is.
“Holy shit! Did you pierce your nipple? Why is it so red?” I ask, my fingers automatically reaching out to touch the little silver hoop and ball attached to him.
“DON’T TOUCH IT!” he yells, smacking my hand away. “I wanted to show you I’m tough and manly, but OH MY GOD it hurts like a bitch! I think Alex broke my nipple.”
I stare in awe at his piercing, because it really is the hottest thing I’ve seen in a while, but I kind of want to smack Sam right now.
“Why in the hell would you think I needed to be shown how tough and manly you are? You’re a Marine! I think tough and manly are part of the definition,” I inform him.
“It was a good idea at the time,” he mumbles, looking down at his nipple. “Can nipples fall off? I can’t believe I let Alex talk me into this.”
He shakes his head and moves his hand back to his cock and starts pumping up and down.
“Dammit! Now I’m thinking about Alex. Do something!”
“I don’t know what to do! TITS AND ASS!” I fire back, sounding like I have porn Tourette’s.
“Yes! Lift up your shirt. Show me your tits and just forget about the nipple,” he begs, his eyes pleading with mine.
I quickly grab the edge of my sweatshirt and yank it up to my chin. Thank God I didn’t change earlier. Not wearing a bra sometimes has its advantages.
Sam lets go of his dick and both of his hands fly out to cub my boobs. He gently squeezes them, lifts them and rolls them around in the palm of his hands until he finally lets out a shaky breath and closes his eyes.
“Much better,” he mutters, his thumb brushing back and forth over my nipples. “Your tits fix everything.”
Dropping the hem of my sweatshirt, it falls on top of Sam’s hands and I fumble inside the front pocket and pull something out. His eyes open when he feels me rummaging around and his jaw drops when I flick the switch and a soft, whirring sound fills the small, quiet room.
“Did you smuggle a vibrator out of the party?” he whispers, watching the tiny little silver cylinder bounce around in the palm of my hand. “So, I guess you don’t need me now.”
I know I should feel bad about the dejected look on his face and try to say something comforting about how this is meant to enhance what we do together, not replace him, but I’m a little bit frustrated right now.
“Oh, shut up! I have pot vagina and this is a CODE RED!”
“What the fuck is pot vagina?” he asks in confusion.
“It’s like whiskey-dick, but with a vagina. And a pot cookie I may or may not have accidentally consumed, and I should probably never be allowed to make any decisions for myself, ever. We’re gonna need a little help to get this party started again unless you’d like to live with a permanent case of blue balls,” I inform him.
He quickly shakes his head, removing his hands from my boobs to grab the vibrator.
“Ten-four. Over and out. I’m on this.”
Before I have time to prepare myself, Sam is sliding my thong to the side again and pressing the bullet right against my clit, forcing a squeal of pleasure to fly out of my mouth.
He slowly starts moving it in circles around my clit and my hips start moving on their own, seeking more, until I have to lean back on my hands so I can lift my ass off the machine.
“Oh, yeah. That’s the good stuff,” I mumble as he holds the bullet still against my clit, and leans closer to me.
His arm goes around my body and I hear a couple of clicks, and suddenly, the washing machine starts up, shaking underneath me. Now, my ass and my clit are vibrating and I think I might pass out.
“O-o-o-o-o-o-o-h-h-h-h-h m-m-m-m-m-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-o-o-o-o-o-o-d-d-d-d-d-d,” I moan, my words stuttering and trembling along with the jerking of the machine under me.
Sam quickly grabs for the remote in my hands and hits a button, forcing the bullet to skyrocket into warp speed, pressing it harder against my clit until I’m seeing stars. Moving a hand off the machine, I slide my fingers under his and hold the vibrator against myself.
“Hurry up and fuck me!” I demand with my eyes closed, feeling my orgasm flying full speed ahead.
Sam doesn’t move, and my eyes fly open to see him staring down where I’ve started sliding the bullet back and forth over my clit.
“Holy fuck, that’s hot,” he whispers with wide eyes.
My hips start jerking forward and I move the vibrator faster and faster until there’s no point trying to stop or hold out until Sam is inside me. This is happening, and it’s happening right-the-fuck now.
“Yeah, get yourself off, baby. Fuck, you are so hot.”
His softly whispered words and every inch of my body vibrating throws me right over the edge, and I call out Sam’s name as I come, my ass lifting and suspending my body just above the top of the washing machine.
As my orgasm still pulsates through me, Sam rips my thong right off of my body like it’s made of paper. He chucks the ruined material to the side and thrusts his cock inside of me in one hard push, both of us moaning when his groin slams against me. I start to move the bullet away and his hand quickly covers mine.
“Nope, keep that thing right there. I want you to come again,” he orders.
Pulling his hips back, he drives into me even harder than before, and I press the bullet more firmly against my clit, unable to believe that I can already feel another orgasm right on the horizon.
He starts fucking me fast and hard, the violently shaking machine under me slamming into the wall behind us each time he drives his cock into me. My mind is a blur from the pot cookie and the pleasure coursing through me and random curses fly out of my mouth that I’m sure make absolutely no sense.
I cling to Sam’s shoulders with one arm, squeezing the life out of him as he thrusts in and out of me, and I swirl the bullet faster around my clit until a few seconds later, another orgasm rocks my world and I cry out
.
“That’s it, baby, come on my cock. Your pussy feels so good squeezing around me,” Sam whispers against my lips as my pussy pulses and clenches with a thousand ripples of the best orgasm of my life.
“Fuck, I’m coming!” Sam suddenly shouts, slamming hard, one last time inside of me, his hips jerking erratically as he comes.
His thrusts slow after a few seconds, and when he finally stops moving, his tense body relaxes into me as he buries his face in the side of my neck. Clicking the vibrator off, I toss it in the general direction of where Sam threw my pants earlier and hear it smack against the floor next to the laundry basket.
With a shaking hand, I reach behind me and fumble around for the off-button on the washing machine, the only sounds in the room are those of our exhausted gasps for breath when I finally find it.
“Please tell me you bought that vibrator thing, and it’s yours to keep forever and ever,” Sam finally speaks after a few quiet minutes.
“Now that we’re finished, I think it’s safe for me to mention her again, but you might want to remove yourself from me first, just in case,” I warn him, both of us wincing when he slowly pulls out of me.
I jump off the washing machine, surprised my legs still work enough to keep me upright, grabbing my leggings from the basket and sliding them back on while Sam pulls his pants up and fastens them.
“So, my mother earned $500 in free hostess gifts,” I tell him, now that there’s no imminent threat of an appendage falling off at the mere mention of her. “She told me to pick whatever I wanted, and I thought I’d give that thing a go.”
Sam leans over and picks the bullet and attached remote up from the floor, cradling it to his chest like a baby.
“I shall hug you and squeeze you and call you Pleasure Town,” he murmurs.
There’s a knock on the laundry room door and we both jump, turning around to face the closed door with wide, nervous eyes.
“Pssssst, Noel!” my mother whispers loudly through the door. “Are you in there?”
I sigh, thanking God it isn’t my dad. He got sick of all the female shrieks an hour ago and locked himself in his bedroom with one of Sam’s paperbacks.