A/N: No, I don't own Twilight. I do own the antics of Edward, Willy, Bella and Vanessa, though.
Thank you SFM to my beta and prereader Askthemagic8ball and sncmom. The start of the adventures for Edward and Willy is their fault, so I am very grateful the two of them are as twisted as me.
I hadn't planned on writing another adventure, but when Newton's Outficcers (www(dot)newtonsoutficcers(dot)com) and The Fictionators (www(dot)fictionators(dot)com) rec'd the original one shot, let's just say I was a bit inspired to, ahem, blow the dust off and get writing. Thank you, ladies.
Also, huge thanks to Caren/Nerac for giving me an awesome name for Vanessella's present. Caren's is the first one, the second was askthemagic8ball. :)
Hope you enjoy.
Edward & Willy Bake a Cake; Bella & Vanessa Get a Present
Today is Bella's birthday, and I am going to do something I've never done before. I'm baking a cake and not from a box either. Betty Crocker can kiss my ass - my baby is getting the real thing.
After Bella left for work this morning, I spent about an hour with Martha Stewart - damn she's an icy bitch - watching her on YouTube as she explained how to make a basic chocolate cake. She said it's easy, and I know I can handle this. I took the day off because not only was I going to make Bella a cake, but I had to pick up her present, too. I'm laughing to myself because I know how excited she's going to be when she sees what I got for her. She's wanted one for a long time, and she has no idea I've been secretly researching online for months. Okay, so, technically, I started looking a few months ago, but I have checked it out three or four times.
I am so getting a blow job tonight.
Bowls, measuring cups, flour, and a bunch of other ingredients are spread out on the kitchen counter. I even bought a mixer like the one Martha has when I was out this morning because if I'm going to do this, I'm going to do this shit right.
Besides, the expense of the mixer is justified because Bella will use it a lot; she likes to bake. I start to think about how good her blueberry muffins are and if they'll taste even better if she uses the fancy black mixer with ten speeds and several metal stir things that can be attached to it. I get an idea to tell her the mixer is also part of her birthday present but then realize that's probably not such a great plan because chicks don't really like to get appliances for special occasions like birthdays or holidays. I wonder if it's a universal female thing and if it's okay to give a mixer or a vacuum in other countries and continents, but now I don't even know what the fuck I'm talking about, so I think about Bella's blueberry muffins again. And then I think about eating her muffins while she's giving me head because she's so excited and has brought me breakfast in bed, and then I start to think about eating her muffin, Vanessa, and Willy twitches in my pants.
I give Willy a quick rub to calm him down and turn my attention to the YouTube video of Martha that's playing right now because I'm on a mission. Willy doesn't seem to like Martha and goes back to sleep fairly quickly. It'll be worth waiting for Bella to get home anyway because that girl gives fucking awesome blow jobs.
After I turn up the volume on my laptop, I read over the instructions I've written down, but Bella's present distracts me by whimpering.
"What's wrong, buddy?" I say to him.
He's sitting in his kennel, looking at me with his really big brownish-blackish eyes. He's just woken up, so I decide I better take him out to pee because he is a puppy, and the breeder said to take him out like every two hours or something. I forgot to ask if the breeder meant to take him out during the night, too. If he did, that's really going to suck. I guess I should call to verify.
Bella said she wanted either a Chihuahua or Saint Bernard. I opted for the Saint Bernard because there's no way I'm going to be emasculated being seen walking a little Chihuahua. Moreover, Saint Bernards are kick-ass dogs. I think I'll order one of those barrel things to go around his neck, too, because that would be pretty cool. I can even get his name etched onto it – once he gets a name. I'm hoping for something strong and simple, or maybe she'll name it after my favorite singer, Stevie Ray Vaughan – rest in peace, Stevie. I can totally see myself calling him Stevie Ray – this dog is going to be so fucking awesome.
I start singing Pride and Joy as Stevie Ray pees in the backyard. He likes it and starts barking and wagging his tail. He's brown and white, and he really is cute. Bella's going to love him.
Goddamn, I am definitely getting a hummer tonight… and laid... at least twice.
Deciding that, without a doubt, I'm going to call him Stevie Ray until Bella gets home – because calling him dog is just stupid and a little rude - I let him run around the kitchen while I look over the cake directions again. I've hooked my iPod up to the dock, and Little Wing is playing. Bella and I always get into a debate over which version is better. I like Jimi Hendrix's vocals, and she likes Sting's, but clearly Stevie's - the human not the dog – guitar cover is the best.
Stevie Ray is chewing on the corner of a throw rug we have under our kitchen table, and this just won't do. Bella is going to freak out if she sees the rug snarled or frayed. She's really particular about things; she likes everything neat and tidy and has a weird aversion to dust bunnies.
I don't get it, but whatever. She's awesome, and I love her.
I scoop up Stevie Ray and put him back in his kennel. He's not too happy about this, so I give him the rubber bone shaped chew toy I bought for him and then switch my tunes to Pearl Jam. They're pretty chill, and I hope maybe they'll lull Stevie Ray back to sleep.
Bella always plays music when she bakes, and I understand why because, well, this shit is boring. She shakes her ass and shimmies when she moves around this kitchen, and it's hot.
Bella's got a great ass; her tits are kind of phenomenal, too. She doesn't even work out, and I think I'm pretty lucky about that because it's like she's got this fantastic body that just is.
As I'm measuring out flour and sugar, I think about what she did for me for my birthday; she shaved an 'E' on her pussy. Not only was it sexy as fuck, but I was impressed, too. I mean, she had to craft a letter of the alphabet with a razor upside down and backward on Vanessa. My baby's talented.
Willy wakes up as we both remember that night. I turn him toward Martha, but she doesn't seem to scare him away this time. In fact, he's getting even harder because he knows he's going to be taken care of in a few hours.
There's no way I can be expected to bake while Willy is trying to break free, so I put down the measuring cups and head upstairs to take care of him.
Once I get to the bedroom, I grab the lotion and then drop trou. I take off my shirt – because I don't want to take the chance of my jizz spurting on it - and then lie on the bed. I can't jack off in the kitchen because that's gross, and the one time I tried in the family room, my brother, Emmett, walked in unannounced. That was… awkward.
I do feel better now that Willy's got some room to breathe, but he's throbbing like crazy because there's a pair of Bella's panties sitting on top of the laundry basket. After pumping a little lotion in my palm, I wrap my hand around my dick and begin to stroke, staring at the panties. They're pink and lacy, and for a second I contemplate whether I might want to pick them up and give them a little sniff. I don't for obvious reasons, that's just sick, but I'm still looking at them.
Imagining what Bella's going to do to me when she gets home later overtakes my thoughts. As I close my eyes, I begin to fantasize about Bella walking into the kitchen wearing a white shirt and no bra. The shirt, somehow, is suddenly wet, and I can see her nipples plain as day. Her hair is wet, too, and then she does this naughty girl look thing by putting her index finger on her bottom lip as if she's trying to look all innocent.
Damn, she looks so fucking hot, and I move my hand faster. My balls start to tighten, and then the phone rings.
I can't concentrate on wet Bella because real Bella has set the phone to some stupidly annoying ring that's overly high-pitched which sounds like fairies sprinkling magic dust. That's all I can come up with because the sound makes no sense at all. With one hand wrapped around Willy, I pick up the phone with the other to check the caller ID.
Fuck again. It's Bella.
An image of wet Bella flashes through my mind, and I think maybe she can talk dirty to me while I'm jacking off. Sure, she's at work, but she can whisper. That would be incredibly sexy.
"Hello," I answer, my voice low and breathy.
"Why are you home? I called you at work, but they said you took the day off," she says, and she sounds either pissed or nervous. I can't really tell.
I didn't tell her I took the day off, and I can't lie to her, so I decide I'd better tell her some of the truth.
"I'm doing something for your birthday, baby," I admit. Closing my eyes again, I stroke Willy slower but firmer. "What are you doing right now?" I ask, changing the subject. She doesn't know that I'm changing the subject because asking what she's doing is a totally normal question to ask. Regardless, I'm really hoping she'll tell me she's all alone, touching herself. Squeezing my eyes even tighter, I'm focusing, willing for her to respond with a dirty comment.
"Working. Why are you breathing so funny?"
Clearly, I do not have telepathic abilities.
"No reason." She's all wet, and we're in the copy room of her office. She locks the door and rips open her shirt. Her tits bounce… "Is anyone around?"
"Are you whacking off, Edward?" she asks quietly. "Is that what you're doing for my birthday surprise?"
She sounds offended.
"Do you want it to be?" I smirk, attempting to make her laugh. Maybe I shouldn't be so cocky because I am, in fact, at home jerking off while she's stuck at work on her birthday, and that's really not cool.
"Uh, no," she deadpans.
There are a few moments of silence on the phone, but I don't alter my pace nor do I think about stopping. I feel guilty, but Willy needs release.
I hear shuffling through the phone, and then she whispers, "Vanessa wants a giant Willy cake for her birthday. She wants a lot of cream filling… A lot."
I gasp, totally surprised and pleased and think I very may well have telepathic abilities. "I fucking love you," I say, grinning from ear to ear. "What else does she want?" I've lowered my voice, trying to sound seductive. I think if she gets all riled up at work and can't do anything about it, she'll be ten times hornier when she gets home.
Goddamn, I love birthdays. I think we'll start celebrating half-birthdays, too. Maybe even quarter-birthdays.
"How about my tongue rolling around her clit or my mouth sucking on her," I say, and fuck if I'm not turning myself on. "Would she like that?"
"Mmm," Bella purrs. "Yeah, and fingers. Vanessa wants two fingers and your mouth at the same time." She pauses, and I hear more shuffling. "No, I can't use green. I need the black one."
"I need to put you on hold for a minute, sir. Just hang on."
Bella doesn't even wait for me to respond before putting me on hold, and now there's this irritating music playing. Fuck. Willy's never going to come. He's still hard, but I'm starting to lose my mojo, listening to an instrumental version of Kokomo.
Kokomo has morphed into some other song that I have no idea what it is. It's slow, though, and kind of soothing. My hand is tired, and so is Willy.
Moving my weary hand to my balls, I give them a nice rub then scratch. I can't hang up on Bella, but I also can't masturbate to whatever the hell kind of elevator music is playing now either. It would really suck if I can't get off right now. There's no way I'd be able to give all of my attention to baking her cake – it's not like I can just come on demand - the afternoon would just go to shit.
I'm in a bit of a pickle.
Thank God, Bella doesn't take too much longer and comes back on the phone before Willy completely deflates.
He's like Pavlov's dog in a way; as soon as I hear her voice he perks up because he knows he's going to get a treat. Speaking of dogs, Stevie Ray is still awake and is yapping downstairs. I need to take care of business first before I can tend to him, so I quickly get off the bed, the phone clasped to my ear, and jog over to close the door with my foot. I'm holding Willy with one hand and the phone in the other while I've trotted from the bed to the door and back to the bed again.
"Sorry about that, baby," Bella says. "Now, where were we?"
I'm so excited she's into this. Phone sex is hot.
I shift into a comfortable position on the bed and close my eyes, trying to bring back the image of wet Bella. My heart's beating a little fast because I've just ran around the bedroom, so I take a deep breath to try to relax.
"I think I was asking you if Vanessa wants my mouth on her," I say and begin my ministrations for Willy again.
Bella sighs exasperatedly. "No, Edward. We moved on to your fingers and your mouth. Keep up, I only have five minutes."
"Okay, sorry, honey. Um…" I start to chuckle, thinking about what I want to say. It's got to be really good since we don't have much time, and I'm sort of laughing because I'm excited about the phone sex – we haven't done this in a long time. "Okay, okay, I've got it… I'm going to curl my fingers inside her and lick her all over. At the same time, I'm going to palm your tit and rub your nipple with my thumb. Would you like that, baby? Tell me. Tell me you would."
Oh fuck, I'm so damn horny right now and pump Willy faster and harder.
Bella clears her throat and whispers, "Yes, I want that. And then I want to kiss you after you've gone down on Vanessa, Edward. I'm sliding my hand into my panties right now. Oh, I'm so fucking wet, Edward. I need Willy inside me." She starts to giggle.
"Shhh, don't laugh," I say; it's distracting. "I'm going to do things to you tonight, baby. You're going to beg me to stop."
"After I eat out Vanessa, I'm going to kiss you so you can taste it, and then I'm going to fuck you. Bella, I'm going to fuck you slow and then hard. I'm going to fuck you on our bed and then against the wall. I'm going to make you come so hard and so many times you won't be able to move for hours. Do you want that?" My heart is pounding, and I'm panting. My legs are stiff, and my balls feel like they're going to explode. I'm about to come, and I hope she says something mind blowing soon because that would be perfect – coming while she's talking dirty to me.
"In the ass, Edward." She sounds sort of muffled; her hand must be cupped over the receiver. "Do you want to take me there?"
My eyes pop open from the thought. I'm not really sure if I do. I think I do – we've talked about this before, but she's never actually confirmed this was something she definitely wanted to try.
Hell, yes. I'm in.
"Yeah, baby. I do. I'm-"
"Oh, shit, sweetie. Gotta go."
Bella hangs up on me. Dammit. Jacking off shouldn't be this difficult, but at the same time I hope her boss didn't catch her.
I continue my rapid strokes, fantasizing about fucking wet Bella from behind. I picture her sweet ass in my hands, and I imagine watching myself push into her and her squealing with delight. She peeks over her shoulder at me, pieces of her wet hair hanging in her face then licks her lips all porno style.
I'm almost there, and ignoring the cramp in my bicep I squeeze harder and pump even faster. Willy spurts a stream of jizz onto my stomach; it's not ideal, but it feels so damn good. Believe me, I'd much rather be spewing inside one of Bella's crevices rather than on my own stomach or thighs, but a man's got to do… et cetera, et cetera.
As I'm lying on the bed, I'm almost drunk from post-come bliss. I worked hard for this one, and now I'd really like to take a nap. But I have Willy's whale jizz on me and most likely the blanket, too, so I'll need to throw it into the wash and take a shower.
Once I've gotten cleaned up and started the washer, I head back into the kitchen to finally make this cake. Stevie Ray is sleeping, and I'm a little jealous because I'm tired, too.
I can't remember exactly what I've already added to the bowl – I'm fairly certain it's just the flour and cocoa powder. I don't think I've added the salt.
Shit. What if I already added the salt? I rake my hand through my hair. It's just a little, so will it really make that big of a difference? Fuck. I have no idea, and I really want this cake to be perfect for Bella. I add more.
I play the YouTube video again, Martha's cackling away – my God she's annoying – and watch how she adds ingredients into the electric mixer's bowl. I imitate her movements, determined to do this right.
Thirty minutes later, everything is added and mixed and poured into two round metal pans. I've forgotten to preheat the oven, though. As far as I'm concerned it's not that big of a deal. I slide the pans on the top rack and then set the oven to 350 degrees. I set the timer and get ready to make the icing.
Oh, yeah, I'm making the icing, too. I'm really proud of myself because this is nowhere near as hard as I thought it might be.
I'm feeling pretty confident in my baking abilities, so I shut down my laptop and pop in the earbuds for my iPod. I'm jamming to the Foo Fighters as I melt butter and sugar and all the other things that go into chocolate icing.
I wonder if Bella will let me eat the icing off her?
I bet she will. That thought makes me smile.
As I'm stirring, bobbing my head and getting my groove on, I glance over toward Stevie Ray. He's still sleeping – he's such a good dog.
"There goes my hero… watch him as he goes," I start to sing. "There goes my hero…
he's ordinary." I think I have a pretty good voice and continue to sing – not too loudly, though, because I don't want to wake Stevie Ray. I'm in the zone, and I don't want to break it to take the dog out for a leak.
The icing seems to be doing what it's supposed to be doing, so I turn off the burner and grab the handle of the pot.
"Motherfucker!" I scream, dropping the pot on the floor. I've just burned my hand on the handle. My hand is red and throbbing, and there's chocolate splattered all over the floor and the cabinets. "Shitfuckshit!"
Yanking the earbuds out of my ears, I throw them on the counter and race to the sink to run my hand under cold water. It hurts like hell, and now I think my palm and fingers are going to blister. Not only is the idea of that disgusting, but how am I going to grab Bella's sweet ass with an injured hand? And it's my right hand no less. I'm not ambidextrous, so if Bella wants my fingers tonight, I'm not confident I'll be able to hit her special spot with my left hand.
I'm so fucked.
Stevie Ray is whining in his cage; he's scared.
"It's okay, Stevie Ray, it's okay," I console him. "Daddy's going to be fine." Whohohoa. Daddy? Okay, that concept is just… no. "Edward's going to be just fine," I correct.
My hand is still throbbing, and it stings, and now I have to clean the icing off the floor. Stevie Ray wants out of his kennel, but I can't let him near the chocolate. Everyone knows chocolate kills dogs. I love Stevie Ray and don't want anything to hurt him.
After I've applied first aid cream to my hand and wrapped it in gauze, I glance at the clock. I still have a couple of hours before Bella will be home, so maybe I can run to the store and buy some frosting from the bakery after I've mopped the floor. They sell that, right? I don't know, but I don't want empty Betty Crocker containers in the trash either. It will definitely take away from my efforts.
The kitchen is icing free, the cake is cooling, and I've taken Stevie Ray out to do his thing in the yard. He's so cute as he looks up at me with his big eyes, so I decide I'm going to take him with me to the store. He's scared and I'm not putting him back in his kennel; if anyone has anything to say about me bringing a dog into the grocery store, well, they can just kiss my ass.
The trip to the store went better than expected. No one said a word to me about Stevie Ray, in fact, if I were single, the trip would have gone extremely well. Little Stevie Ray is quite the chick magnet.
I've returned home, and the house smells really good from the cake. I wash my hand not hands as in plural, just one because I'm injured, and washing only one hand is a lot more difficult than I thought it would be. I think about how I'm supposed to shower or wash my hair with one hand. I refuse not to be able to clean my body, and then I think about Bella washing my hair for me. Willy starts to wake up as I think about sitting with her in the tub, and she's washing my hair. I think my wounded hand may not be such a bad thing.
Shaking off that fantasy before I need to go whack off again– dammit! How the hell am I going to masturbate with my left hand? Willy has gone back into hiding; I think he's scared.
I sigh heavily and walk over to the counter to inspect the cakes. There's something really wrong. The tops aren't raised or level – they're sunken. They looked perfect when I took them out of the oven, so I'm not sure what happened. This is very disappointing.
Stevie Ray is running around the house, barking; he wants to play. I don't really have time to play with him right now, though, so I just let him do whatever it is he's doing. I think Bella and I will need to discuss putting him in a doggy day care while we're both at work. I don't like the idea of leaving him home all day by himself.
As I try to manipulate taking the cakes out of the pans to put them on the plate with my left hand, I start to think if a doggy day care would be a good thing. Are there dog bullies at these places? Will the people working there let him out to pee when he needs to go? I'm just not sure about this – maybe my mom can babysit him.
The cake is coming out in pieces. Now I'm pissed. And frustrated.
Fuck you, Martha Stewart. Fuck you right up the ass.
I try to mold the cake into a normal, round cake shape, but it looks awful. Maybe I can cover it up with the icing. I really hope I have enough. I'm able to slop the icing on it and spread it around rather well. I'm almost convinced it looks good – and edible. I put the next layer on, in pieces, and then mold that around, too. It starts to sink into the bottom layer.
Now I'm really pissed, like very much so. And I swear to God, I'd let Martha Stewart fuck me in the ass with a strap-on right now if she would show up to fix this mess. Betty Crocker, too. They could both use strap-ons, and the two of them could go to town on my ass if they could just, please God and all that's holy, come to my house and fix this stupid cake.
Fuck you, Martha and Betty.
Stevie Ray is sitting a few feet away from me, staring at me. He looks worried, and I don't want him to be scared.
"Can you cook?" I ask. He cocks his head. "Can you, little buddy?" I say in a high voice. He wags and barks. He's getting really excited, running in circles, yapping, and then he pees on the floor.
Fuuuuck, Stevie Ray.
I purse my lips and narrow my eyes at him. "Bad dog." I say. I don't yell at him, but I think I sounded firm enough. He cowers and goes to his kennel.
After closing the door, I clean his mess off the floor, wash my hand, then get back to the cake. Could this day get any worse?
Two hours have passed, and I hear the front door open. I've fallen asleep at the kitchen table.
"I'm home, baby!" Bella yells. The sound of her heels hitting the floor in the foyer are then followed by her feet slapping loudly against the hardwood as she charges toward the kitchen. I'm startled by the thunderous sound of her elephant steps and instinctively grab onto the table.
"Stay right there!" I order. I don't want her to see Stevie Ray until I show her my work of art. The cake came out really well. Before I fell asleep, I pondered the idea of taking baking classes. I think I could be really good at it if someone other than Martha was teaching me.
Bella is waiting in the hall that leads into the kitchen, and I approach her with the cake. She immediately smiles, and this has made the day so worth all of the shit I've been through.
"Did you do that?" she squeals, and I nod. "What happened to your hand?"
"I had a minor accident. I'm okay, baby, no need to worry."
Her lip gets pouty, and she looks so damn sexy. I take in the skirt and shirt she's wearing. The shirt is a little tight around her tits, and I don't think I'm too happy about that. But for now it works.
Bella takes the cake from my hand and puts it on the table that's next to us. "You worked hard today, didn't you, baby?" she asks, and again I nod, but this time I'm smiling. It's the way she's talking to me that's making me happy. "You baked for me and you hurt yourself."
I sigh. "It's because I love you, sweetie."
Bella walks me back into the wall and then starts to unbutton my jeans. She doesn't say anything, and Willy is ready. Jesus, he's so ready for this.
She tugs my pants down around my ankles and gently frees Willy from my boxers. Within seconds, she's got her mouth on my cock.
Goddamn, I love birthdays.
Bella's going nuts on Willy, and I've got my good hand threaded in her hair. Her mouth feels so good it should be illegal. I'm not even kidding.
I'm so into what she's doing right now, I think – I can't be sure – but I think Stevie Ray is crying. Bella stops mid-suck and looks up at me with my dick halfway in her mouth. She quirks an eyebrow, and her eyes move toward the direction of the sound.
Stevie Ray barks, and Bella's eyes widen to the size of golf balls. I was so close to coming right before that. Shit. She releases my cock with a slurping pop and sits back on her heels.
"What's that?" she asks, practically eye to eye with Willy.
I still have my good hand on her head, and I twirl a piece of her hair around my finger. "Don't you want to finish this first, baby?" I ask, nodding toward Willy.
Stevie Ray barks again.
Shut up, dog.
Bella stands and grabs my dick. She starts pumping as she's kind of bouncing up and down. "Edward… what is that?" she asks again and has a huge smile on her face.
Does she not know how distracting it is when she's obviously not focused on me? I close my eyes and try to shut out everything around me but Bella's hand on Willy.
"Shhh, it's a surprise. I'll show you in a minute."
She giggles, but damn, I love her so much because she doesn't stop with her hand job. A few minutes later, I'm coming all over her hand and wrist and a little down her arm. I really do have whale-like coming skills.
Once Bella decides I'm finished, she drops Willy and thunders into the kitchen. I kind of want to ask her to take it easy because she's certainly going to scare Stevie Ray, but I don't; it might hurt her feelings.
After she's washed my jizz off her arm, she takes the dog out of the kennel and holds him up to her face. He's licking and slobbering all over her cheeks and chin… it's a little repulsive.
"Oh my god, Edward! I love him! Thank you so much, baby!" It's clear the two of them are going to get along very well. I never really doubted this, but I'm very happy with my choice of dog.
"You're welcome." I smile as Bella walks toward me and offers me a kiss. I raise my hands to stop her. "Nuh uh, baby. You're going to have to wipe off your face first."
She looks a little hurt, so I kiss her on the forehead.
Bella holds Stevie Ray up to her face again, and in a baby voice she says, "What am I going to name you? Oh, you're just so cute I want to eat you up!"
"I have an idea," I offer, and Bella looks at me hopefully. "Stevie Ray."
Bella's forehead and nose crinkle up and she shakes her head. "That's a silly name," she says to me.
I'm crushed. It's a good name, and we've already bonded. If she calls him something else he might get confused.
She looks back toward the dog and in the same baby voice says, "You're not a Stevie Ray, are you? Nooooo, you're a Mr. Whizzles. Yes, you are. You're Mr. Whizzles."
Two days later…
"Edward, you have to be firm so we can housebreak him." Bella's standing with her arms folded across her chest. She's not angry, but suddenly she thinks she's the dog whisperer. "Try again."
I'm completely exasperated, and sigh. We're in the park and it's a nice day, so there are a lot of people around. A couple of guys are walking by, and I mumble, "Go potty, Mr. Whizzles."
"Fine," I concede. In a louder voice, and one that I'm sure anyone can hear who's within a ten foot radius, I say through gritted teeth, "Go potty, Mr. Whizzles!"
The dudes are laughing, and I smile curtly. It's okay, though, because even though I'm not allowed to call Mr. Whizzles by his true name, Stevie Ray, which I secretly do behind Bella's back anyway, I guarantee those guys who have just walked by don't have an elephant-stepping girlfriend who not only has mad hummer skills but also allows them to experiment with her ass.
A/N: Thanks for reading. There will be more adventures, but as stated in the a/n of the previous one, it all depends on time. I'm getting close to the finish line with Hints of Me, and I've started a new fic, Dragonflies. It would be awesome if you checked them out.
All my best!