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Chapter 10
My hands shake as I stare down at my girl.
I can’t believe she’s here, in my home, my bathroom.
Our bathroom.
My mouth dries at the thought, even as pride has my dangalang stiffening in my velours. I hope she doesn’t think I’m moving too quickly. The idea of her panicking and rejecting what we have makes me physically ill.
I bite my lip, taking in her sweet body. I’d stepped out of the bathroom to give her a moment to get comfortable and urinate. She changed into my shirt. It dwarfs her luscious curves and for the first time in my entire life, I’m ecstatic to be a big man. I’ve never hated being average height or thick, especially in the mid-section. I’ve never cared much, to be honest. But right now, I’m damn well loving the shit out of my size.
“Are you sure I need to be in this position?” She murmurs, shooting me a bashful look as she adjusts her legs, sinking deeper into the sumo squat I instructed her to assume. “I’d think doggy would suffice.”
I choke on my next breath at the sound of the word doggy coming from her delicious lips.
“No,” I rasp. “You’re perfect.”
I didn’t think it was possible for her cheeks to turn pinker, but they do, and my junk throbs in response. There’s no way my virginal self is making it out of this tempting adventure with any sort of dignity. I’ll be lucky if I don’t blow my load the second I touch her thigh.
Christ, man. Be professional. She asked you a question.
“And this position is actually the body's natural state for rectal evacuation.” I gesture at the tools I gathered and sanitized for the procedure. “Not only is gravity on our side like this, but your rectum is perfectly straight in a sumo, so everything should flow beautifully. Once I see what the situation is, you’ll push and I’ll use my tools to remove the little guy, no problem.”
“This is nuts!” she chokes out, slamming her knees together. “You make it sound as if l’m getting ready to push out a baby, not a butt plug!”
I smile and drop to my knees in front of her. Luckily, the bathrooms in this place are massive, so we’ve got plenty of space to do what needs to be done without feeling crowded. Not only that, but the hellacious amount I spend on weekly cleaning crews ensures the white marble tile is pristine. Perfect for what my girl’s about to go through.
“You’re going to be okay,” I murmur, cupping her jaw. She sucks in a harsh breath, drawing me in. Unable to help myself, I press my lips to hers. “I promise, I’m going to fix this. Do you trust me?”
“I know I shouldn’t, but, yeah, I really do.”
“Good goose,” I praise, kissing her again. “Now let’s get this silly thing out of you so you can get some rest.”
Story shakes out her hands and bobs her head. “Okay. I’m ready.”
“I’ll be quick,” I promise, adjusting my headlamp.
Thank fuck, my old man was a pack rat of weird shit. And double thank fuck he left all his crap to me when he finally kicked the bucket. It took me months to make his old Beacon Hill Brownstone livable. The home is stunning, but, damn, it was a hoarder's wet dream.
Snatching the hand sanitizer from my baking sheet turned medical tray, I thoroughly cleanse my digits before shoving my meaty fingers into a pair of new dish gloves. They’re tight, practically cutting off the blood flow to my palms, but I figured she’d feel better if I used them. Once I’m ready, I shuffle to my ass and lean back onto the mechanic’s dolly.
“Oh my god!” Story chuckles. “You look adorable on that thing!”
I shoot her an upside-down grin as I use my feet to wheel toward her. “Alright, bed bug. You get to be my assistant. Think you’re up to the job?”
“Yes!” She claps her hands and her thighs bounce like a frog. My sweet little amphibian.
I roll backward until I’m looking up at her from the flat of my back. Just above me, my shirt is puddled around her spread thighs, covering her maidenhood. It takes everything in me not to look, but all my thoughts turn to static knowing I’m so close to it. Her pretty, pink flower. Her delicious fur burger. My mouth waters and my senses go haywire. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I could scent her moist cunny already.
Shit. I bet she’s moist as hell. So moist, I could slip right in without her even noticing and fill her with my manly spunk until she’s knocked up.
“Fred?” she says softly, rubbing her soft hand across my scalp. I blink a few times, shaking my filthy thoughts away. “What did you need me to do?”
I lick my dry lips, watching as Story traces the movement. “I’ll call out for supplies, and you hand them to me. You’ll be my assistant.”
“I can do that,” she agrees, her voice raspy with desire. At least that’s what I think it is.
She could have gas.
