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“Did my wife just bite my ass?” I ask.
She laughs.
I roll to my back, dropping the phone. She’s naked, wet, and on her hands and knees, at waist level. She drops a kiss on my hip, staring directly into my eyes.
“Another gift. My wife’s laughter.”
She winks.
My dick twitches. She eyes it and leans over, running her hot little tongue from the base to the crown, waking it up entirely.
I fold my arm and cup the back of my head with my palm, watching the show.
“You’re so fucking hot,” I tell her, joy welling up inside me as she grips my dick and squeezes, swirling her tongue around the crown. She kisses her way up and down, squeezing, and then whispers. “Open up.”
I don’t immediately move because I’m not sure what she means, but when she nudges my inner left thigh, I catch her drift and part my legs so she can fit between them better.
“More,” she requests, slowly running her tongue along my cock.
I shuffle to give her more room, but realize it’s not so she can tuck her body there and keep licking and sucking my cock, her tongue moves lower.
Lower.
Lower still, and now she’s tonguing my sack. I sink my teeth into my lower lip watching the show, torn between wanting to watch and wanting to reciprocate.
She licks my taint, and I lift up on my elbow so I don’t lose sight of her eyes. She stares straight into my soul and does it again.
“My dirty fucking girl. Fuckin’ love it,” I tell her. “I love you.” I grab her by the armpits and turn her to her back, pressing my mouth between her thighs.
She whines, “But it’s my turn!”
I chuckle.
“What my bunny wants, she gets. As long as I get what I want, too.” I maneuver her so she can ride my face while sucking me. Not long later, we’re coming into one another’s mouths and I’m pretty sure I’m done for the night.
“Did you say something about food plates?” she asks as I’m drifting, holding her, feeling her, feeling right.
“Yeah. I’ll go and–”
“I’ve got it,” she offers and rolls away from me.
After not sleeping well for more than a week, I’m sinking into slumber before she’s back.
I wake up in the dark and she’s asleep on my chest. The TV is on the screensaver. I go to the bathroom, take a leak, and wander to the fridge in the kitchenette. I see it’s stocked with water, Coke, beer, root beer, and a covered platter.
Chloe put this in the fridge for me. I see a matching platter and lid in the sink. She ate, saved my meal for me, and snuggled up in bed and watched television until she fell asleep.
She’s mine. She’s letting herself be mine.
Is this real?
“Don’t fuck it up or you won’t like what happens.”
I let the feeling wash through me. It’s real. And I’m not gonna fuck it up.
I almost smile at the contents of the plate. But sadness twinges in my gut, too. My mother was a fancy bitch. She loved all things upper crust. But she came from humble beginnings and this meal pays homage to not only that, but also to one of the best childhood memories I’ve got.
I was maybe eight or nine and we spent a summer at the New Hampshire place. Mom fired a maid for flirting with my father right before the cook took sick and wound up hospitalized for a weekend. This left our parents to fend for themselves. And us.
