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Chapter 12
Istare down at the puppy pad with my cock in my hand.
Did today really happen? It feels like a fever dream of never-ending chaos. I’m exhausted, yet somehow exhilarated. I slowly slide my hand up and down my shaft as I reflect on the events of my day. I started and quit my new job, met Story, brought her home, put my mouth on hers, then between her thighs, and stretched her pretty ass until she pushed out her plug.
The plug.
I swallow hard, tightening my fist until I’m choking the hell out of my chicken. I’ve come an insane amount of times today. When I woke up. Again, while I had my morning oats. A few times in the ambulance. Then when I saw Story tied to the bed. When I kissed her, touched her, smelled her. And twenty minutes ago when she pushed that butterfly from her poop chute like the goddamned warrior she is.
I’ve splooged so many times, I should be empty. Should be, but I know I’m not. Crazy enough, the amount of liquid that’s been seized from my balls in a singular twenty-four-hour period is not unusual for me.
I have a problem. An addiction. I can’t stop.
I’m a jerk-o-holic.
It’s the high, the pleasure, the few moments where I have to think about nothing beyond getting off. But more than that, it’s the cum itself. I love seeing it, feeling it against my skin. Sometimes, I even drink it. I can’t help it. It’s a sign of my virility. A measure of my masculinity. Proof that I, Frederick Fink Bates, am worthy of creating and having a family. One that will be all mine. One that will look up to me, care about me, love me.
Now I have that. I have Story.
And fuck, she’s perfect for me. She’s so damn sexy. So strong and smart. She’s funny, too. Brave. So fucking brave.
My mind flashes back to earlier and my body trembles. Seeing her work so hard to push the plug out was a sight I’ll never forget. She strained and shook, flexing every muscle in her curvy body to its limits. And she did it. She expelled that pretty little plug like a priest shunning a demon during an exorcism.
That was the moment I realized I’m in love with her. I knew I was attracted to her. Knew I wanted to keep her. But now, I see forever in her brown eyes.
Against my will, my gaze slides back to the puppy pad.
My mouth goes dry as a spurt of jizz shoots from my aching sack.
After I got my girl settled into the jacuzzi bathtub in our bedroom with a snack, I cleaned up her mess. There wasn’t much that came out with the plug, but enough that I knew she’d be embarrassed if she were aware.
What do I care, though? I’m a trained medical professional. A little caca never hurt anyone. I dumped it in the toilet and cleaned up the bathroom. However, what I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of was the little thing that started this entire, beautiful night.
The plug.
The butterfly plug.
Mr. Buck Nekkid’s words from earlier play through my mind like a broken record. He shared his story about the significance of butterflies and love. How every man in his family knew they’d found their true love when they were spotted with a butterfly. It was beautiful, and I’d been enthralled by his story. What are the chances of me meeting my woman on the same day as hearing Buck’s tale? Of our instant connection. Our mutual attraction.
And the butterfly.
I release my junk as I drop to a crouch and pick the little thing up. I hold it to the light, taking it in with a smile.
“You created a lot of mischief, honey,” I murmur, inspecting it. It’s pink and made of translucent acrylic. The bottom is a medium plug, but the top is a good-sized butterfly. I shake my head as I note the perfect taper separating the base and butterfly. “Dumbass didn’t know what the fuck he was doing with you, did he? Oh well. His loss, my gain.”
The bright bathroom light catches on an inscription along the plug itself, but I can’t make it out. I flick a peach-colored hair off and wipe a larger chunk of Story’s excrement on my pant leg. Once it's somewhat clean, I hold it back up to the light. My breath catches in my lungs.
You Deserve True Love
My sweet baby bed bug.
Even in her moments of pleasure, she was still hopeful. Waiting to find her forever. Her happily ever after.
Now she has, and it’s me.
Mine.
Story is all fucking mine.
