|Work in Progress
Author: araeo PM
AU/AH: Bella, Edward and the usual suspects are adults living in Seattle. They hit it off after a klutzy accident and E awakens B's ovaries, who never hesitate to voice their pervy opinion in B's head. Rated M for language and lemons.Rated: Fiction M - English - Humor/Romance - Bella & Edward - Chapters: 43 - Words: 281,655 - Reviews: 6,398 - Favs: 5,391 - Follows: 3,436 - Updated: 07-01-11 - Published: 02-18-09 - Status: Complete - id: 4874316
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Hi all! Long time, no see. This is a somewhat sizable tidbit I couldn't get out of my head. I know it's not BPOV, but since most of you only have this story on alert and not the EPOV extras, I thought I'd post it here first. It will stay here for a while, and then I'll move it over to the Flipside set where it belongs.
It's also out of sequence - this takes place before the "Thanksgiving in Progress" outtake.
Thanks to famouslyso and tragicallyepic for prereading. Caipirinhas and steaks to you both. ;)
A Work in Progress Extra: Sample Size (IS) Important...
"Of course, we prefer the collection to be as fresh as possible. You can collect it at home, but you must return the sample within two hours. Ideally, we prefer on-site collections, as they provide us with the freshest specimen and deliver the most accurate results," the nurse intoned, completely rote in her delivery. Her voice was nasal and flat; it made me wonder how many times a day she scheduled appointments for men to essentially jerk off before handing over a collection container painted white on the inside. Considering I was a physician on the same hospital campus, I had it on pretty good authority that it was pretty damn often. "You'll also need to abstain from sexual activity for seventy-two hours prior to collection."
Well, that sucked. Maybe Bella was due for her period soon; I made a mental note to check her cycle on that phone application I'd downloaded. I'd finally be able to justify the five bucks I'd spent on that "Red Alert" app.
"You should also be aware that use of any water or oil-based lubrication, including saliva, is not allowed. It compromises the integrity of the sample. If you find that it is needed, you can obtain a packet of specialized lubrication from your ordering physician."
Wait, what? No lube? And there was no way I was going to ask that douchebag Biers for help in that department. I knew he was just waiting for my swimmers to show up defunct. The bastard probably wanted to step in and supply his own baby batter, sans turkey baster. I wasn't blind; I saw the way he looked at my wife.
Okay, so I was probably overreacting, but the man had seen way too much of Bella's lady parts, and those were for my eyes only. It was only natural to want to rip off the guy's balls, right?
So, asking the asshole for this "special lube" was out of the question, which meant I only had one other place to turn … my father.
I was really looking forward to that.
I couldn't believe it. How was it possible that I didn't know about this crap? I was a physician, for Christ's sake. Though, why I expected myself to know about sperm-safe lubricants as a hematologist, I had no idea. It wasn't exactly something I needed to know, but I liked to tell myself I knew everything, even when it was obvious I didn't. So, it looked like I'd be asking Carlisle. I couldn't wait.
After I concluded the call, I entered the date and time of my collection appointment in my phone, making sure to set two alarms to remind myself. Not like I'd need the extra help (come on, I'd be cock-blocking myself for three days in order to give the perfect sample), but these things were just ingrained in me. I had so much going on with work that Bella hated it when I forgot the personal stuff. Of course, she always forgave me, but I hated disappointing her. Anything I could do to keep myself in her good graces was beneficial to the both of us. Me especially.
To be honest, I was worried that we still weren't pregnant. Bella had been through the wringer lately with tests and analyses, with nothing to show for it. Things were completely normal on her end. Which only left me. I'd be lying if I said the idea of getting this test didn't leave me a little worried. I didn't mind the thought of adoption, since I'd been adopted myself; in fact, I'd even entertained the idea of asking Bella if she'd like to do it anyway after we had our own biological children. But like any red-blooded man, I had the intense desire to impregnate my wife. Call me a cave-man, but the idea of knocking up my woman gave me a boner every damn time.
I wanted to see her big with my baby, to lay my head on her stomach and feel our child kick. I wanted to tell him or her funny stories about strange things her Mommy does, like when she talks to herself. Rubbing Bella's swollen feet even sounded nice, and giving her shoulder massages sounded even better, as long as she let me have a "happy ending" afterward. I even looked forward to running out at midnight to buy her a ten-piece bucket of KFC with a side of biscuits and mayonnaise or something. Well, maybe that was going too far. I didn't want my wife to die of a heart attack before she could give birth to my progeny. No matter what happened in the long run, I knew we'd be happy. I had my soul mate, and she was all I needed. If we had our own biological children, it would be great, but my life would be full and complete even without them.
I've never felt more awkward than I did when I slunk into Carlisle's office that afternoon. He welcomed me inside with all his usual warmth and congeniality. Trying to gather the courage to broach the über-embarrassing subject, I farted around with the usual small talk and tried to keep from fidgeting, but his eyes missed nothing, fixating on the way I nervously raked my hand through my hair.
"What's up, Edward? I take it you're not here to shoot the shit," he said, plopping gracelessly into his chair, which groaned loudly. Huh. Was Carlisle putting on a few pounds? I bit back a smirk at the notion—maybe if he had, Bella wouldn't think he was so damn hot.
"I … Well, I … Jesus, I can't even fucking say it," I stammered, unable to look him in the eye. I was pretty sure my cheeks and ears were flaming red, from the way they felt like they were on fire. I couldn't remember a time when I'd felt more uncomfortable, and that was saying something, since that included the days after I woke up from wrapping his brand-new Mercedes around an eighty-year-old tree.
"Come on, Edward. Whatever it is, it can't be that bad."
Oh, yes, it can be, Dad.
But no matter how embarrassing this would be, making sure everything was fine for Bella and me was more important. Squeezing my eyes shut, I went for it.
"I have to get a semen analysis. The nurse told me I'm not allowed to use … uh …" I cleared my throat, all ability to speak stopping right there, because I wasn't sure I could even utter the word 'lube' to my father, let alone to his face. Things would have been so much better had I just called him to ask for this shit instead of stopping by his office. I cracked an eye open to gauge his reaction.
"You can't use lubrication?" he supplied easily, like it was no big deal. Though, to Carlisle, it probably wasn't. I bet he discussed this embarrassing shit all the time with his patients. I just didn't want him to be discussing it with me. But I'd do anything for my Bella, including enduring completely mortifying conversations with my father.
"I suppose you're wanting a sample supply of HisSeed," he offered.
"Uh … what the hell is 'his seed'?"
"It's the only lubrication you can use for manual stimulation if you're going to give a viable semen sample."
My eyes went wide, almost popping out of my head. "Jesus, Dad … can you not phrase it like that?"
"Well, how the hell am I suppose to phrase it? 'The only lube you can use to whack it—'"
"Fuck, just stop it, please!" I shouted, covering my eyes with my hands and hanging my head.
"Seriously, just use it, kid. Unless you like using the old 'Desert Sleeping Bag'."
"What the—what's a 'Desert Sleeping Bag'?" I didn't know why, but I was looking at him again, eyes wide in horror.
"You know...dry, rough and gritty? Like your palm without any spit?"
Fuck help me, but Carlisle made the motion. The one where he pretended to wank off.
I wanted to puke. I settled for looking at the floor.
"Okay, I'll take it. Gotta be better than nothing," I muttered. 'Desert Sleeping Bag' my ass … and where the hell did Carlisle hear that term?
It had to be Emmett—and that was where the mental detective work had to stop. Thinking about both my brother and father—and masturbation—in the same train of thought was going to render me permanently impotent if I wasn't careful.
Carlisle watched me calmly with a smirk that rivaled my own. He just loved raking me over the coals. "Was that all?"
"I guess." I still couldn't look at him. I felt almost as weirded-out as I had when he walked in on me whacking it to the Playboys I'd stolen from his office when I was fifteen.
"You really shouldn't worry, Edward. This sort of thing happens all the time. You're not doing yourself any favors by worrying so much. Let it happen. You're both healthy—you're just trying too hard."
I shrugged and ran my hand through my hair again. "I just remember spending my college years being desperately afraid of getting someone pregnant. Then when I actually want to knock Bella up, it's a lot fucking harder than we thought!"
"Just relax. It will happen," he insisted, and I finally pried my lids open, finding him regarding me with a sympathetic look.
"I can't stand Dr. Biers," I blurted suddenly, unable to contain my irrational jealousy any longer. "You should see the way he looks at Bella."
He rolled his eyes. My father actually rolled his eyes! "Edward, come on."
"I can't help it! He's probably going to misread my sample just to spite me! I'm pretty sure he'd like to be supplying the baby batter, if you know what I mean." I was a moron. Could I give my father any more ammunition to make fun of me?
"In that case, do you want me to analyze your sample?" He raised one brow in that annoying, 'I'm completely calling your bluff' way.
Fuck. That's just … wrong. Really wrong.
"Dad, I don't know how to say this, but …" I took a deep breath and just forced it out. "I really don't want you analyzing my sperm. No offense," I added quickly, feeling the blood flood my cheeks in embarrassment.
Carlisle laughed so loudly I had to look behind me in panic just to make sure he wasn't drawing any attention to us through the open door of his office. "Okay, Son, I get it." He paused, and I just knew I was going to hear something horrible. "In that case...maybe I should give Bella a pelvic exam? I'm not sure Dr. Biers is up to snuff, if he's as incompetent as you say."
"Wait a minute; you recommended that asshole!" I shouted, immediately seeing red. "Haven't you seen enough pussy?"
"Edward, calm down; it was a joke!" I could barely separate the words from his laughter. "You're way too easy sometimes."
"It's never funny when my father's talking about looking at my wife's private parts."
"But I'm a specialist, Edward. It's only in her best interests." God, I hated it when he was so smug. I knew he was just messing with me, but damn it, it was working!
"I don't give a shit if you're the best gyno on the planet. I don't care if you've seen a million pussies; you're not seeing mine!" I shouted.
"Yours?" he taunted, and I realized my mistake.
"My wife's," I corrected quickly, hoping he didn't notice the weak embarrassment in my voice.
"I always wondered why Emmett thought you were so effeminate …" he mused, almost concealing his laughter.
"Shut up, Dad," I growled, just glad he couldn't see my flaming face. Sometimes I cursed having such a pale complexion, and this was definitely one of those times.
"You know I'm kidding, Edward."
"Yeah, whatever. I'd rather have that kid Biers examining her than you. She'd probably run off with you if she had the chance. She thinks I don't know about her little crush on you, but I do."
"I think you're mistaken, Son. But I'll accept that for the compliment it is and move on," he said, looking a little too pleased with himself for my liking.
I scowled at him. "You'd better move on. You can take your Lolita fantasies and leave my wife alone."
"Edward, calm down." He paused, smirking up at me from his desk. "I save all my Lolita fantasies for your mother. She's eight years younger than me, you know," he said, waggling his eyebrows. "Esme always did look delicious in one of those plaid schoolgirl skirts."
Clapping a hand over my mouth, I fought back the remains of my breakfast. "That's disgusting … I don't want to even … oh, God."
Carlisle barked out a laugh as he rose, coming to slap me on the back as he directed me toward the door. "Stop gagging and follow me. And then we'll get you some of that lube you need."
Yeah, I was probably going to puke before this day was over.
"What? You can't use lube?" Bella wore the cutest expression of surprise as she stood in front of the dresser, her hands perched on her hips. "You can't even spit on it before you...you know?"
God help me, she actually made a motion with her hands. It was so much hotter when Bella did it, but I had to quickly squelch the image of my father doing the same thing. I didn't know whether to cringe, laugh, or jump on her. I settled for a muffled snicker before I said, "Nope."
She let out out one of her trademark snorts. How she still managed to turn me on while making that sound, I'd never know. "You'll never make it."
"Is that a challenge?" I couldn't let on that I was afraid she was right.
"More like a fact." She casually pulled a lacy bit of underwear from the drawer and dropped the scrap of towel that had been tucked around her torso to the floor. I surreptitiously checked myself for drool as she stepped into them, my eyes raking up the endless length of her legs to fixate on the curve of her ass.
Yeah, she was probably right. I wasn't sure if I'd make it. But I could do it for our future children.
"You know, I have to save up my swimmers for three days before I 'donate'," I found myself croaking out. My voice actually cracked as she bent over to pick up the towel. There was something about seeing my wife in lacy black underwear (and nothing else) that never failed to get me hard as a rock.
"Really?" In my mind, she didn't sound interested enough as she sauntered slowly back into the bathroom, leaving the door open. Through the reflection in the mirror, I saw her smirk as she tossed the towel in the hamper. Ahh, so she's messing with me. God, I love this woman.
"Really," I called, leaning back on my elbows as I eased fully onto the bed. "My appointment is in three days." That failed to get a rise out of her, and I began to get a little irritated. "Yep. Three days without your Precious," I said loudly, and sat back to wait, unable to stop the gigantic grin that took over my face. As I'd expected, she came storming out of the bathroom, and I couldn't resist lifting my head up just so I could see the way her tits jiggled as she came toward the bed. She was so fucking hot when I made her mad.
"Stop making fun of me! That should have been a compliment! Are you ever going to let me live it down?" Her little hands fisted at her sides, and her chest rose and fell with her irritated breaths. She was glorious. The Precious definitely appreciated the sight.
It was slightly (okay, very) emasculating, calling my dick that, but it had stuck ever since she'd let that one slip. When my suggestions failed to take hold (and I was really disappointed that she didn't go for The Kraken), I gave in. What was done was done, and my junk was forever named after Gollum's most prized possession. What did I care? I had the best woman in the world already; she could call my penis whatever she wanted as long as she put it in that pretty mouth on occasion.
"I doubt it," I admitted truthfully, pushing myself to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. I crooked a finger at her. "C'mere, Biff." She just stood there, cocking out one hip, pointing her gorgeous breasts right at me. It was about to make me nuts. "Bella, come on." I hoped I didn't sound too desperate.
Finally, she came toward me, stopping when her thighs met the mattress. She stood between my legs, nose still up in the air as she tried not to look at me.
"What do you want?"
"Why do I have to be wanting anything?"
She hit me with the laser eyes, but there was no hiding the grin that pulled at the corner of her mouth. "Because you've always got an ulterior motive, Buttercup."
God, would she never stop it with that nickname? The emasculation was now complete. I swore my estrogen spiked every time she called me that. I sighed, knowing there was no use in complaining. It would only encourage her. "You have no faith in your husband."
"Oh, I have faith—that you'll find the most perverted ulterior motive on the planet."
"You know me so well, love. Now, will you let me peel off your underwear with my teeth?" There. Just voicing those perverted ideas made me feel better. I could always rely on the inner porno reel for a boost in confidence. And testosterone.
"You do realize that I'm not supposed to ovulate for a few days," she said, inching closer in spite of her unenthusiastic sounding words. Now she was just reaching. But she wouldn't be my Bella if she didn't put up any resistance or try her best to irritate me. It was all part of our antagonistic mating dance, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
"You really think I give a fuck about that? I just want to be inside you." To make it more difficult for her to resist, I leveled her with my tractor-beam stare. It never failed, and when I coupled it with putting my hands on her, she always crumbled faster than a rickety Jenga tower.
"Oh, okay," she said, and it was more like a whimper than actual words. That's my girl.
I settled my palms on the swell of her hips, fingertips digging into her soft, pliable flesh. The bare swath of skin between her breasts looked lonely, and I couldn't help but plant my lips right there, flicking my tongue out to taste her. She tasted sweet, with a hint of salt that betrayed her arousal. Of course, I didn't doubt that she'd succumb to me—she always did. Just as I was always putty in her ever-capable hands.
As my rock-hard dick could attest. I felt like I was about to bust the seam on my boxers.
Her fingers threaded through my hair, pulling hard, just like I liked it. I knew she was trying to pull my mouth to her nipple, but I wasn't quite ready to give her what we both wanted. The anticipation made everything that much sweeter. Lower, I hooked my fingers in the sides of her silky, flimsy underwear and pulled them down over the slope of her hipbones, dragging them down slowly.
"This is just for us," I told her, looking up into her rich, brown eyes as she gazed down at me. Deliberately, I licked a trail down the midline of her body, never breaking that tenuous line of eye contact as I went. "This just because I want you." I pushed the scrap of fabric past her knees, pressing my forehead against the flat expanse of her lower stomach as I watched it fall to the floor. She stepped out of her underwear, steadying herself with her feet placed shoulder-width apart, fingers digging almost painfully into my scalp.
"I want you, too," she pretty much gasped, pulling me closer, tugging my head up by the hair and shoving her chest into my face. I loved it, how I could make her breathless just by touching her skin. Her nipples were hard, needy points right in front of me, begging for my tongue. Who was I to keep them deprived when they tasted so fucking good? Taking one into my mouth, I licked and sucked, savoring the texture of her engorged flesh, lapping up the sweetness of her skin. The sounds that slipped from her lips sent spears of pleasure straight through me, encouraging all the rough, possessive groans and moans I made. Tension built all through my body as my cock strained almost painfully beneath the thin cotton of my boxers. I wanted; I needed. Getting inside her, feeling her wet heat all around me became my entire focus. I kissed, licked, and bit my way across her chest, making sure each side was given equal attention. Only when she was arching against me, begging for release, did I move lower.
Twisting two fingers together, I circled her entrance, teasing with the barest taste of penetration. "This is just because you're fucking beautiful. Just because I have to have you." Tossing aside all pretense of gentleness, I pushed past the slick lips of her pussy and slid my fingers inside, groaning at the hot, wet, feel of my wife. My Bella.
I smiled when she groaned, probably trying to form words. Her knees buckled in response to my touch, and instead of trying to hold her up, I reversed our positions, turning so I could guide her to her back on the bed. Kneeling, I spread her legs wide and kept them wedged open with my shoulders. Her fingers knotted in my hair, pulling me down toward her. I knew what she wanted—she wanted me to lick her, to make her come. I wanted the same thing. Salt and heat and softness met my tongue as I licked lightly at her clit, moaning at the taste of her. I kept up a steady rhythm, fucking her with my fingers as I concentrated on making her feel good. God, nothing turned me on more than driving Bella past all thought or reason. When I raised my eyes to meet hers, green locked with brown, I grazed my teeth gently over her clit and pulled back.
"This is just because you're mine." And because I was completely hers. Her eyes dropped closed, sooty lashes sweeping thick shadows above her cheekbones. So fucking beautiful.
Planting my free hand firmly on her lower stomach, just above her pubic bone, I bent my head to her again, curling my fingers upward with each thrust, timing my movements with the flick of my tongue. It wasn't long before she was clamping down on my fingers and shoving her hips up into my face, her hand fisted in my hair so tightly it hurt.
"Oh, my God, that was so fucking good," she panted, urging me up to her face. Shucking my boxer shorts, I crawled up her body until I hovered over her, feet firmly planted on the floor, placing my hands on either side of her shoulders, tormenting her with my closeness.
I couldn't help the smirk that curved my lips. "Did you expect anything less?"
"You arrogant fucker." She was still out of breath as she yanked my face down to hers, our noses touching. So close, her features blurred into barely recognizable shapes, but I'd know that beautiful shade of her eyes anywhere.
"Did you expect anything less?" I repeated, brushing my lips over hers, letting her taste herself on my mouth. She licked at me with a blatant eroticism that made me even harder, and I let my hips drop between her legs. Bella raked her nails down my back and clutched at my flanks, urging me closer. My cock brushed against wet heat, searing and slick, and it was all I could do to keep from thrusting inside and pounding her into the fucking mattress.
But then … then I thought about how I'd be able to do this for the rest of my life...I thought about how I'd always have her with me … next to me … naked … under me.
Bella was paradise.
And she was all mine.
It was only those thoughts that allowed me to relax and kept me from falling on her in desperation. Feeling more in control of myself, I lowered my whole body atop her, threading my hands under her shoulder blades, caging her in my arms. I forced myself to ignore the way her hips bucked up into mine, just resting my erection against the slick heat of her pussy as I focused on her mouth. Angling my head to the side, I nipped gently at her lips, teasing her with the idea of deep, slow kisses, but never following through. She whimpered, her hands leaving my hips to coast up and down my back, leaving me covered in contrasting heat and goose bumps. It was impossible to keep from grinding against her, and before long I was coated in her wetness, my dick sliding easily up and down between her lips.
"Edward. Stop teasing." Her voice was high-pitched, breathy, and I knew that tone. I loved hearing it and I especially enjoyed coaxing it out of her. It meant she was putty in my very capable hands—which was only fair, since I was always putty in hers. I shoved her to the center of the bed, climbing atop her, foregoing the extra leverage in favor of being able to press the entire length of my body against hers, pinning her down into the mattress.
"Love, you know I don't tease," I promised, reaching down to position myself to enter her. Those beautiful brown eyes rolled back in her head as I pushed inside, letting my own lids drop closed as I took in the feel of her hot, wet pussy stretching around my dick. Blindly, I searched for her lips, pressing my mouth to hers, licking at the smooth inner faces of her lips before letting our tongues dance together. She wound her legs around my hips, leaving me little range of motion, which I made up for with the strength of my thrusts. Being inside Bella was pure, unadulterated heaven. I could fuck her for hours, days...and she'd let me.
Grabbing her hands, I guided them up to the headboard, fitting her fingers around the slats before rearing back so I knelt between her legs. Immediately, she wrapped her calves around my hips, her knees hugging my sides. From this position, I could easily admire the delicious pink flush that spread from her cheeks all the way down to her chest. I could see the way her lovely breasts swayed with each movement of our hips. I could lose myself in the sight of my cock, wet and shining with her arousal, as I thrust in and out of her. I wasn't gentle as I pounded into her, gripping her hip so hard the flesh underneath my fingers went white and bloodless.
"Fuck, yes. God, you feel so good." The words tumbled from my lips in an endless stream; curses and promises and compliments, every single one of them my absolute truth. This woman was my world, my life, my love. Pressing my fingers into her hips, I lifted her ass to meet my thrusts, tilting her to just the right angle. Our skin met with satisfying slaps of sound, faster and faster, until I was on the verge of losing it. Heat boiled along the column of my spine, building, consuming, setting me ablaze with the wonder of being inside her.
So much of our coupling lately had been about making a baby. Of course, it was far from businesslike; when we came together it was always intense, but it seemed like something was missing. It was never just fucking for the sake of fucking; there was always a purpose. Not so this time, unless the purpose was getting my wife off before exploding in a mind-blowing orgasm.
This time, it was just about how good we could make each other feel. About what we wanted, not the end result. And I wanted to come all over her, to mark her with the evidence of the pleasure she gave me.
"Shit, Edward … right there," Bella begged, too breathless to scream anymore. I pressed my palm flat on her belly, pushing down, knowing it would only make the angle more intense.
"Yeah?" I encouraged, adding a hard roll of my hips at the end of each thrust. If I could just hold off for a little longer, maybe I could make her come again. Reaching down, I brushed my thumb over her swollen little clit, making tiny, steady circles. She peered up at me through hooded lids, biting her bottom lip, her face tense with pleasure. If there was one thing I knew, it was how to make my wife come; and fuck, did I love doing it.
"Yes … oh, God …" Her back arched as her heels dug into my ass and her eyes slammed shut. I had to do the same thing, because the sight of her was almost enough to make me explode. And I really wanted to wait for her.
But fuck, she felt so damn good...
"Can you come again? Please, Bella …" It was my turn to beg now, the words barely making it through my clenched teeth as I fought off the waves of sensation threatening to swallow me under. I got my answer when I felt her pussy contract around me. "Oh, fuck, yes," I hissed, trying to keep my rhythm steady through her climax, forcing my eyes open so I could see her fall apart. When I knew she was finished, I pulled out of her, wrapping my hand tightly around my erection and spilling all over her belly, nearly falling over in the force of my orgasm. Goddamn, that was hot. I nearly blacked out. After I steadied myself, I found her watching me with one brow raised, her lips curved in a small smile.
"What was that all about?" she asked, soft and breathless and amused.
I couldn't contain the grin that spread across my face at the satisfied purr in her voice. It was a little lower, husky from screaming out my name. Okay, so maybe that was all in my head, but damn, I couldn't help myself.
"Hey, it's the last time my swimmers can be lazy. They just want to hang out all over your soft skin." I couldn't look away from the length of her naked body, spread out for me like the most delicious buffet. I barely held back the groan that rumbled up from my chest as I took in the way my come glistened against her lower belly. Call me a caveman, but that was fucking hot.
She laughed, lazily closing her eyes as she stretched. "Well, they'd better enjoy it, because they're gonna get wiped off and flushed in about fifteen seconds. Just as soon as you get up and get something for me to clean up with."
"Aw, baby, you can't waste them like that."
Cracking open one eye, she said, "I'm not the one who decided to go all porno with the money shot. You're the one that wasted them."
I was laughing before I remembered I was trying to give her a hard time. Trying to flatten my grin into a frown, I wiped a hand over my mouth. "I won't even dignify that one with a response." There, Bella. I'm taking one out of your book.
"I believe you just did," she shot back, softening her words with one of her beautiful smiles. "Now seriously, get me a rag or something. This shit is a bitch when it dries." She made a shooing motion toward the bathroom.
I raised a brow, seizing another chance to fuck with her. "Oh, really? Have a lot of experience with dried jizz, do you?"
She snorted. "Yeah, thanks to you. Remember that time in the shower when we didn't get it all off my back? I thought something was biting me every time my clothes rubbed against it!"
Shit, she was right...damn, that was funny. I grabbed her hand and tugged her to her feet before she could protest. "Come on, we'll wash it off."
"Umm, didn't we just discuss your jizz-cleaning failure?"
"I promise to be extra thorough."
"Yeah. If 'extra thorough' means keeping me in there until we're all pruny, or you can get it up again. Whichever comes first."
"Oh, there will be coming," I promised. She only rolled her eyes and laughed. "Woman, are you doubting my prowess?" I leveled her with a scowl and grabbed her around the waist, carting her into the bathroom, jizz be damned.
After all, I only had a few more hours left, and I planned to make the most of them.
If I could get it up again. I wasn't a machine, after all.
Three days later, I stepped into the little white bathroom to give my "sample" and looked around in disbelief.
The fuck is this?
I locked the door behind me, staring at the lone stall which I just knew would house an industrial-style toilet that was halfway along its journey to being a disgusting, pockmarked throne of death. What was the fucking point of having a stall when there was only one goddamn toilet in the room?
You know those scenes in all the movies, where the dude goes to give his sperm sample and there's a somewhat tastefully decorated room full of porn magazines, fully equipped with a television stocked with porno videos and a comfy chair? The ones with slightly dusty fake ficus trees in strategic corners, encased in calming beige walls and generic paintings, tricked out like a dentist's office, except they catered to those with sexytimes on the mind?
Lies. All of it.
Come on, even that moron Stiffler got to sit in a fucking easy chair and peruse a few Hustlers before the nurse came in and gave him the old anal probe.
And here I was—perfectly prepared to give my 'contribution' without any backdoor probing—and I was expected to sacrifice a serving of my swimmers in the same bathroom probationers used to prove they weren't still using meth or coke. That's right: I was supposed to masturbate in the same room where people pissed for their drug tests.
With no porn.
And special lube I got from my father, the gynecologist.
Talk about Mission: Impossible.
I whipped out my phone—believe me, not the weapon of choice I'd expected to be molesting in this situation—and sent a quick text to Bella.
The movies really let me down here. I don't think I can do this.
It took a minute before she responded. Briefly, I wondered what she was doing, and if she was naked. Though unrealistic at three in the afternoon, it was always my first thought. Hey, it was possible, right? She worked from home, after all. Plus, Naked Bella was one of my favorite Bellas, second only to Smiling Bella.
What can't you do? And why are you complaining about movies?
How the hell did I explain what was going on here?
There's no way I can … er … make my … "contribution" here.
I quickly snapped a picture of my surroundings and attached it to the text. Surely that should explain my performance problems.
No way! Is that really where you are? Aren't they supposed to have comfy chairs and porn magazines?
God, we really were made for each other. Not that I'd had any doubt since the day I met her.
That's what I thought! This place is a nightmare. I can't do this.
Yeah, I was repeating myself, but what the fuck was I supposed to do? Bella didn't have many helpful suggestions, either.
Ummm...concentrate really hard?
Thanks, Biff. You're a great help.
Should I send you some...inspiration?
Inspiration? Please elaborate.
And please let 'inspiration' mean naked pictures. Please.
Well, shit. I was hoping you'd say you didn't need any.
What the fuck would make you think that?
More proof that intuition crap is just bullshit.
I'll pretend I didn't read that and think about sending you pictures of my boobs, then.
Oh, fuck yes. Pictures of the Twins would be awesome.
Yes, I felt a twitch down there! The Precious is alive!
Please and thank you in advance.
I barely managed to type that out, with the way my fingers were shaking at the very thought. Why the fuck didn't I drag Bella here to help out with this?
I don't know...the internet isn't written in pencil, you know.
Oh, come on. Like I'd show anyone. I'd kill anyone who saw them.
You never know what's going to get out. What if someone steals your phone?
We're not living in a soap opera, Bella. No one's going to steal my phone.
You don't know that! Maybe you have some disgruntled ex-girlfriend just waiting to plaster my naked pictures all over the interwebs!
Jesus Christ. I'd never understand the minds of women. Good thing I only ever wanted to be with one of them. It was just my luck that she happened to be the most confusing member of the species that had ever existed.
Then again, she was also the funniest, most sincere, most endearing...
Shit, she's turning me into one of them!
That's ridiculous. And who the fuck cares? You're gorgeous. The hottest woman I've ever had. It wouldn't make a difference.
So you'd be okay with pictures of my "gorgeous" body floating out there for every pervert to wank over?
No one would be wanking to pictures of my wife but me, damn it!
That's what I thought.
I see what you're doing. Stop trying to mess with me and send some damn naked pictures.
I love it when you get all bossy.
There was an attachment with the last message, which I eagerly tapped, awaiting the glorious sight that was surely waiting for me. Slowly, an expanse of her naked skin was revealed, making my mouth water. When it was fully downloaded, I blinked.
What the fuck? Was that her...bellybutton? I was strangely turned on, but there was no way I could let her know.
I said NAKED pictures, Bella!
There are no clothes in that picture, Buttercup. That counts as naked.
That's your belly button!
You didn't specify.
Send me a picture of your tits, damnit!
So vulgar. I don't even know who you are anymore.
Aww, you're speechless.
To my utter amazement, I felt the beginnings on an erection stirring beneath my scrubs. Bella always could turn me on just by antagonizing me. And just in time, the phone buzzed with another arrival. This time, there was no text, just a close-up glimpse of one blush-pink tip surrounded by milky-white flesh.
Oh, fuck. There was no longer just a stirring beneath my scrubs, but a full-on boner. I didn't know how I managed to send out the next text.
Fucking beautiful. Show me more.
With my other hand, I palmed my length roughly, unable to stop myself.
Another buzz brought a soft-blurred glimpse of her skin; the barely recognizable curve of her hip. Shit. She was naked.
The Precious started begging for mercy.
Maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all.
"The internet isn't written in pencil" doesn't belong to me. We all know this.
So, I've got an ulterior motive ... WiP was nominated for some 2011 Gigglesnort awards (Best Adult - Big Fish, and Best All Human, Big Fish), and of course I'd love it if you'd vote for me. Considering the awesome (and more recently written/updated) competition, I don't have a snowball's chance in hell, but go read and vote anyway. Oh, and voting ends tomorrow. Yeah, that's some procrastination mastery right there, isn't it? Especially considering this piece has been written for about a month. Sigh.
If you're so inclined to vote - http:/kwiksurveys (dot) com/online-survey (dot) php?surveyID=NIENLF_c4ce1cee
To see the nominees - http:/awards (dot) gigglesnort (dot net/ viewpage (dot) php?page_id=7
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this! Happy Independence Day to my fellow Americans! *holds up Nixon peace signs*
Oh ... and to those of you still reading Chain Reaction, I'm working on the update. Sorry I suck so much, but I'm trying. :)