I’m unloading the dishwasher and wiping down my counters when my eye catches on the bushel of bananas I bought yesterday when I was grocery shopping. I think of the sex toys I still have in a box in my bedroom and wonder if I should break them out, but decide it’s better to wait until later tonight when I have more time. The bananas, though,are giving me an idea, and they’re right here. Besides, I can always eat it afterwards.
I’ve experimented with my fingers in my hole, and I got the toys so I could do more experimenting that way, but I’ve yet to do any oral experimentation, and I’ve been wondering what it would feel like to have a cock in my mouth. One very specific cock, that is.
I look at my phone. I have ten minutes before I’m supposed to be over at Bentley’s, so I finish wiping down the counters and wash my hands, then snap one of the bananas off the bushel. Do I put my mouth on it as is or do I peel it first? Does it matter? Might be easier if I peel it. Okay, here it goes.
I unpeel the banana from the bottom so I have a better grip on it, holding it from the top with the stem down. Here’s hoping it doesn’t fall off in my mouth and choke me. That’s a great way to end up in the ER.
You would think having been on the receiving end of several blow jobs over the years I wouldn’t be so nervous, or would at least have a better idea of what I am doing, but even after reading tips online for how to suck a guy’s dick, I’m starting to appreciate the girlfriends I’ve had that made it look easy. I’ve gotten my mouth over the banana and I’m trying to keep my teeth out of the picture, which is easier said than done, but it’s only about a third of the way in my mouth before I’m gagging on it and my eyes are watering. Fuck.
I pull it out and wipe my eyes. “Okay, sir, you’re not winning this one,” I tell it, before I’m closing my mouth over it again.
I’ve gotten it in about a third of the way again, and am gagging on it once more, with tears in my eyes when I hear, “What are you doing?” and nearly jump out of my skin. I choke on the banana as it breaks off in my mouth and then I’msputtering, trying to decide if I should just eat it or spit it out as tears slide down my cheeks. I go for spitting it out.
I’m panting, and my face is flaming when I turn and see Bentley there, eyeing me. Oh my God. I dump the banana halves on the counter and wipe my eyes. “What the hell are you doing here?” I ask him, my heart thrashing.
“I thought we could hang out at your place,” he says. “The door was unlocked so I came in.” He bends down and scoops Marble into his arms. She purrs and nuzzles his cheek.
Shit, that was humiliating.
“Are you okay?” he asks, and that just makes it worse.
“I’m fine. Just, don’t sneak up on me like that.” My voice is harsher than I intend, and I know he didn’t actually do anything wrong. I’m just so embarrassed and I have no way to explain what I was doing. I clearly wasn’t eating the banana, moving it up and down like I was.
“Sorry,” he says, his voice soft, and I know I’ve hurt him.
I sigh as I toss the banana pieces in the trash. “No, it’s not your fault. I’m sorry. I just didn’t get much sleep last night and I’m tired, I guess.” Total lie, but what am I supposed to say? I was practicing deep throating a schlong?
“You want some coffee?” I ask, trying to make amends, gesturing to the coffee maker on the counter that has yet to be used. He gives me a smile and I count it as a win. Hopefully we can just forget this whole banana thing ever happened, and note to self, lock the fucking door if you ever do that again.
Bentley looks conflicted as he eyes the coffee maker and Marble, trying to figure out if he can hold her and make coffee at the same time. He keeps her in the crook of his arm while he removes the carafe from the tray, and fills it with water. “Do you actually have coffee?” he asks, “or did you forget that part?”
I smirk at him, then openthe cupboard above the coffee maker and pull down coffee and liners, setting them on the counter. He grins again and then hands me the coffee to open so he can hold my cat.
I roll my eyes but I do it. “I have no idea how to make coffee, so if you want me to do it you have to tell me how.” He tells me how many scoops to put in the basket at the top of the coffee maker after placing the liner inside, and then fills the top with water, before placing the carafe back on the tray and pressing the button. It starts to gurgle and hiss seconds later, and then the apartment is filled with the smell of brewing coffee.
“Thank you,” he says. “I know I could bring coffee but you getting that was really sweet.”
And, I’m blushing. I shrug. “You did the same thing for me so I could have tea. It’s not a big deal.”
He sits on the sofa and I grab the book. We’re still working our way throughLittle Womensince we only have so much time during the week to do this and we spend a lot of that time watchingSupernatural. He’s got me completely addicted to that show and I am not at all complaining about the fact that it has fifteen seasons. I won’t lie and say I don’t notice how many attractive men and women are on the show either.
We take our usual positions, Bentley lying down with Marble tucked against him and his feet on my lap. This is the only way I get to have any physical contact with him other than our fingers “accidentally” touching every time we eat popcorn together, and I look forward to it every time, even if it is only his feet, which still manage to smell amazing by the way. It’s completely unfair. God I want to bring them to my nose and breathe them in, but that might be a bit much. I do tickle him a little off the bat and he letsout the most adorable giggle as he moves his feet away and then proceeds to poke me in the side with them.
“Not nice,” he says, a twinkle in those gorgeous blue eyes. “Be good to me. I’m your only access to Sam and Dean Winchester.”
I laugh and he places his feet back on my lap again. This time I’m good, rubbing them gently, and I grin when I hear him sigh in contentment as he pets Marble and I start to read. We’re nearing the end, and I know Bentley is going to have a hard time with this chapter considering how attached he is to Beth. Her death scene always guts me no matter how many times I read it, and I can’t help thinking about what it would be like to lose one of my parents, or Tommy. Fuck, I’m getting emotional just thinking about it. I just hope I can actually read it to him without turning into a blubbering mess.
He asks what a couple of the words mean as I read and I do my best to explain them within the context of the story. Words like “stalwart” and “superannuated.” I can tell he’s getting emotional as I read about Jo taking care of her sister in her last days, and the poem Beth reads that Jo wrote about her; about the ways Beth’s life has touched her, her patience, her kind heart, and her cheerful and gentle spirit.
I manage to hold it together while I read, but I notice Bentley’s hand moving up to his face and see him wiping tears from his eyes as he sniffles and his body shakes slightly. And for some reason that only makes me care for him more. My sweet, teddy bear Viking.
My heart melts when he buries his face in Marble’s fur, and I rub his foot. “You okay?” I ask. “I always cry at this part.” He sits up and I open my arms to him. Then his big body is against me as he buries his face in my shoulder and cries. I wonder if this is making him think about hisgrandma and I squeeze him a little tighter. And then, because I’m feeling extra brave, I press a kiss to his hair.
Bentley
I’ve just finished up with a client and am wiping down the massage table when Peyton steps into the doorway.
“Hey, he seemed satisfied when he left,” she tells me. “And he gave me this to give to you.” She holds out a piece of paper and I take it, unfolding it to see a number written on it. I flush.
