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eaton
?. . .?
My palms aresweaty as I pull up the driveway with Jenny following behind. I hope she falls in love with the place the way I did. Six columns hold up the eave over the porch. Weathered cedar covers the bottom half, while white wood is on the top half. The house is otherwise covered in cedar shingles that have faded to gray over the years. There are three dormers, two halfway up the roof and one higher up in the middle. The trim is white, and the front door is bright red.
Off to the side of the house is a detached garage, and around back is a manicured lawn that leads straight to the bay. My family thought I was nuts buying such a big home when it was just me, but it felt right. Now I know the reason. It was to prepare for when I met Jenny and put as many babies in her belly as I could.
I climb out of my truck to find Jenny already outside of her car, taking in the house with a dreamy look in her eyes. That’s a good sign.
“This is your house?”
“It’s our house.” I take her small hand in mine, knowing that I’ll keep saying it until she believes me.
“Eaton, it’s beautiful. Straight out of a magazine.”
She allows me to pull her to the side door, which is the one I always enter through because I’m usually dirty when I get home, and the mud room at this entrance connects to the laundry room. Those two rooms lead straight into the kitchen. I release Jenny’s hand so she feels free to explore.
On the side of the house that looks over the bay are solid windows and French doors that run from the kitchen, past the dining room, and into the living room. It’s an open concept with knotty wood floors, white walls, and three pillars that separate the real front entrance from the three main living spaces.
Though it’s been renovated, a lot of the structural aspects of this 1930s home remained the same. The bedrooms and bathrooms are on the smaller side, and the kitchen isn’t all that big either. The contractors made up for that by doing things like taking out a closet, putting in a butler’s pantry, and taking one of the bathrooms out upstairs to accommodate a walk-in closet for the primary.
“I don’t know what I pictured your house to look like, but this wasn’t it. I thought it would be dark, masculine, and modern, but now that I think about it, that’s not you at all. You’re more traditional, so yeah, I guess I can see it now.”
Is traditional a good thing to be? I don’t know. “I haven’t done much since I moved in. It’s ready for a woman’s touch.”
“I wouldn’t change a lot. Maybe some color on the walls is all. Definitely wouldn’t touch the furniture.” She runs her hand down the sofa. “This is beautiful. It must’ve been expensive.”
“Actually, it was free because I built it.”
“This is the kind of furniture you build? I assumed you made coffee tables or something, not upholstered works of art.”
The sectional is huge and dark green. It can seat at least eight and is deep enough for a tall man like me. That might’ve been an oversight, though, because I doubt Jenny’ll be able to touch the ground when she sits on it. I might have to take that back to the drawing board.
“I do make those too. In fact, I made that one.” The octagonal table in front of the couch has black steel legs and a wooden top. “But my claim to fame is indestructible sofas, chairs, and beds—that kind of thing.”
“So if I spilled a glass of wine all over this?—”
“It wouldn’t seep into the fabric, and after you soak up the wine, the cushion would be dry.”
“How? This is so soft and cozy.” She curls into the corner of the sectional, and I don’t think I’ll have to get rid of it after all. She looks adorably short with her legs criss-crossed in front of her and still not reaching the edge. I nearly get a peek at what color panties she’s wearing as she scoots off to continue her tour, but she quickly pulls down the skirt of her dress. This one is baby blue with clouds all over it. I like that she wears dresses to be feminine but pairs them with tennis shoes for comfort.
Her hair is down and curled on the ends, which I learned takes a lot of time to do. We didn’t leave the house until almost four because of how long it took her. Actually, that’s not entirely true because after our disastrous shower—she wasn’t kidding, the thing was small—where more water ended up on the floor than down the drain, I distracted her with my mouth between her legs. Then she gave me a handy where she sprayed my cum all over her face. My dick gets hard at that memory, and I quickly adjust myself.
After that, Jenny had some errands to run. We dropped off some of her product to a local sex shop and stopped by an office supply store. Once that was done, I took my girl to dinner, killing enough time for a few of my employees to load up a delivery truck with all her stuff and bring it by the house. She won’t be happy, but I wanted to make the move easy for her. It might have also been a fear-based decision that she’d change her mind, something she can’t do if she’s already moved in. But I swear that part was an afterthought. Mostly, I didn’t want her to stress.
“Want to see the rest?”
“Sure.”
I guide her up a flight of stairs that leads to a loft area where I have a couple comfy chairs and a video game console hooked up to a ridiculously large TV. “My brothers come over sometimes.”
“Speaking of your family, what will they think about me moving in so quickly?”
“Honestly, I don’t care. I’m a grown-ass man and don’t need my family’s approval, but I have a feeling they’ll be thrilled I finally found someone.”
“They won’t be worried I’m taking advantage of you?”
“Baby,” I soothe. “One conversation with you, and they’ll see how amazing you are.”
