So much beautiful olive skin, with just the right amount of muscles came into view only a foot away from my face. His arms were veiny, but not that scary type of veiny where you wondered if they’d explode if the person got stressed. He also had something I had never seen in real life, at least not to this extent – he had the special v on his pelvis, like an arrow pointing to his cock. And I couldn’t make out what it was seeing as how my eyes wouldn’t stop darting around trying to cover as much ground on his body as they could, but he had a tattoo that went from his pec to his back.
I suddenly wanted the day to be over and done with so I could go home, get my vibrator and play the image of him topless on repeat in my head. Maybe he’d be the professor, and I’d be the naughty school girl? Maybe he’d be a shifter, and I’d be his mate? Maybe he’d be a highlander, and I’d be his naughty wench? The spank bank world was my oyster.
Then he went and added to it by asking me to help him while he bagged his shirt and gave me a wet wipe to clean his chest for him. He didn’t need to ask me twice. In fact, he shouldn’t even have asked me once. Merely handing me the wipe would have been enough. The feeling of his hard, warm chest under my fingertips without a shirt in the way – but I did curse a wet wipe for the first time in my life – was indescribable.
Maybe I should see if we had any spare batteries at work? If it turned out that mine were dead or that I didn’t even have any, I would die. Explode! And then what would they put on my death certificate? Could they find that sort of thing out during an autopsy?
Then a thought hit me as I sat behind my desk that would solve all of my problems and maybe even make them completely nonexistent for life. What if I attached a car battery to the vibrator? I could get the leads from work and hook it all up.
How would one go about seeing if that could be done?
My first option – to ask the Gods of Google – yielded no results. Apparently, no one had ever asked that on the internet. Or, maybe they were just too embarrassed to? Who could say, but regardless there wasn’t any answers or anything for me to go on when I searched the Web. All the people in the world, and not one of them could have given me the answer I needed. I didn’t even need details – although it wouldn’t have hurt to know how, if I was honest– just a simple yes or no.
My second option was to ask the guys working in the big space next to my office. But how?
Madix
Dropping Dahlia back at the garage had been hard to do, but I’d needed to get Harambe back to my house and settled. Somehow, he always gravitated toward her whilst Baileys came to me. It was the most mixed up dog swap ever given the vast differences in their sizes.
I’d watered and fed the little bugger and now he was tearing into whatever he could find. I should probably have stopped him when he started ripping apart a cushion, but it had been dropped off on my doorstep by an anonymous Townsend and had You’re my Haram Bae on it. My bets were on either Levi or Tate, but short of dangling them upside down out of a window, I couldn’t get them to admit to it. Yet!
Apparently, Harambe had the same issues with the cushion I did, so he could make it into confetti for all I cared. In fact, if I didn’t think that it would encourage him to continue tearing shit up – shit I actually liked – I would have given him a doggy treat for his efforts.
Taking a picture of the savage canine’s antics, I sent it to Dahlia. It only took a few seconds until I saw the three little dots dancing on the screen, showing that she was texting back.
I choked when I read what came through.
Dahlia: Cute!!!!!!! You probably shouldn’t let him do that. He might decide your cock is next.
Before I could reply, another message from her pinged onto my screen.
Dahlia: Jesus Jones. COUCH. I typed COUCH.
The roar of laughter that burst out of me made Harambe jump and yelp, throwing bits of cushion stuffing up into the air and across the surrounding floor. I should probably stop him doing that to the cushion now in case he ended up consuming any of the stuff.
As I walked toward him, I typed a message back to her.
Me: If he goes after my cock, his balls will find their way onto a vet’s table.
For good measure, I added a couple of scissor emoji’s to the end of it. Grinning, I then typed another message to her.
Me: And I didn’t mean couch.
Putting my phone onto a table beside the sofa, I went and wrestled the cushion away from the little savage. This took longer than I’d intended it to because the little shit didn’t want to give it up. After a tug of war, I relented and gave him the torn cushion cover so I could pick up the stuffing and put it safely in the garbage.
Once that was done, I picked my phone back up and looked at what she’d sent back. My eyes almost popped out of my head at what was on the screen. A photo of Baileys nestled into her cleavage with her Labrador’s head on her bare stomach. She was wearing a cropped v neck t-shirt, so both dogs were skin to skin with her.
Staring at it, I was overcome with an emotion I’d never felt before in my life – jealousy. Literally, for the first time in my life, I was envious of something else, and it just so happened to be a puppy the size of one of my own’s turds.
Did I care one bit? After seeing that photo, no. Whereas she’d probably intended for the photo to be innocent, I saw something far from that when I looked at it. And so did my cock.
I was blaming that appendage for what I was doing on the drive over to her house. Then I was thanking it for what happened after I made the journey.
Nine
Dahlia
B ing had been waiting for me at the garage when I’d gotten back from my puppy purchasing trip, so that’s where he’d met the new addition to the Ferguson family. Seeing as how his bed was under my desk and he loved the guys there, I was used to being able to leave him in my office when I needed to head out for something. This time though, there was a lot of guilt and trepidation when I’d walked in and saw him lying out on my desk. How he found that comfortable, I didn’t know, but he did and when I wasn’t there, that’s where he plonked himself.
He’d taken one look at the puppy in my hands and had licked his lips like I’d brought him a chew toy. Madix had suggested that I let them meet on common ground, ie the floor, so I’d put Baileys down and let him wander around. Thankfully, the introduction had gone without me having to unclamp Bing’s jaws from around him. In fact, it was the total opposite. He’d jumped down, sniffed him, gotten into his bed and then Baileys had climbed onto his head and curled up and they’d both fallen asleep.
When we’d gotten home, I’d fed them, had a shower and laid out on my bed. I was exhausted! The weather was hot, the sun was hot, the air conditioning in the office had major issues and messed with me constantly, and I just wanted to sleep.
I was just settling in to do that now when Bing jumped up beside me and Baileys whined from the floor beside me.
Mental note to self – see if they do steps for tiny dogs to get onto the bed.
Lifting him up, I waited as he chose a spot to curl up in, before I lay back and wiggled until I found the perfect position myself. Just as I closed my eyes though, my phone beeped beside my head making me growl, getting a responding one from the tiny puppy.
Thankfully, I didn’t need to move any other part of my body aside from my arm to get it, so I didn’t lose the comfortable spot on the bed I’d only just found. Holding it in front of my face, I blinked a couple of times as I looked at the screen. I’m not gonna lie, seeing Madix’s name pop up gave me a full body shiver. Then seeing he’d attached a photo made me shiver again.
Please let it be a Mad-dicks pic!
Sadly, it wasn’t, but the photo of the little barbarian tearing into the cushion he’d been telling me about only hours ago made me chuckle.
Typing out a reply and almost dying when my phone changed couch to cock, I breathed a sigh of relief when he replied and made a joke about it.
Looking at my own dogs,
I got an idea. Baileys had decided that the spot between my boobs was his bed and was out cold now, and Bing had his head on my stomach as usual. Figuring it would make a cute photo, I snapped it and hit send as quickly as I could so that I didn’t have time to overthink it. It was only when I heard the swishing noise from my phone confirming that it had sent, and then saw the word read followed by the current time, that I looked back at the photo to see what Madix would currently be looking at and winced. I had thrown on my usual sleeping attire – a cropped t-shirt I’d had since I was in high school and some baggy shorts, and none of it left much to the imagination.
Oh, shit on me. What had I done?
My heart dropped into my foot when he didn’t reply and I didn’t see the dancing bubbles that told me he was typing. Not even an emoji came through from the big, fat silverback. He wasn’t really fat or a silverback, but it was the only insult I could come up with through my embarrassment, and that was only because I’d used it so often on him too. It required no thought process to call him that, which was just as well because I wasn’t sure that my brain was capable of it at that moment, anyway.
And this is why I couldn’t have nice things. Inevitably, I screwed it up somehow. How I’d screwed it up so monumentally tonight, I didn’t know, but the chatty Cathy from moments before was now gone.
Turning my phone onto silent, I put it in my drawer and made myself a promise that I wouldn’t check it for an answer.
That lasted all of one-hundred-and-nine Mississippi’s, and then I gave in and had a quick look.
Nothing.
Laying back, I began to plan how my life would go as I stroked both dogs. All women do it. We meet a guy, lose the guy and then plan an awesome life without him. Mine now included chickens after the little clucker today had changed my mind about the feathered things. The animal I’d always been most scared of now featured heavily in my life plans. I would get a coop, I would get chickens, the chickens would follow me around like puppies, and I’d be the best cock mama in the history of mother cluckers. Maybe I should reword the title I was giving myself? ‘Cock mama’ sounded like I was planning a life in porn, dominating penises.
There was a space in my garden where I could put whatever it was that chickens needed, and maybe I could clear out one of the spare rooms so they had their own space inside. Could you potty train chickens to go in a litter tray? I didn’t really want poop all over my house.
It was at that moment that a thumping on my front door scared the shit out of me, and I shot upright on the bed almost sending Baileys flying. At the last second though, I caught his body as my ta-tas catapulted the poor baby.
The knocking on the door was accompanied by a buzzing from my bedside table, and for a second I thought my vibrator had turned itself on in the drawer somehow. A quick succession of thoughts flashed through my head.
Was there a vibrator poltergeist? Was it trying to use mine? How would that even work?
Could you get an Alexa compatible vibrator?
Realizing that it was my phone vibrating - something I’d forgotten it did when I silenced it - I carefully pulled it out of the drawer, taking a second to also check that my vibrator wasn’t actually buzzing away at the back too.
Looking at my screen, I saw that Madix had text back.
Madix: It’s me, baby. Open up.
What the hell? Why didn’t he just text me his response if he had one? He didn’t have to come all the way over here.
They say curiosity killed the cat, but as I opened that door to let him in, and his excited doggy companion barreled into my legs, it almost ended up killing my pussy. It was the pussy between my legs it almost killed, and this was most probably because I didn’t have a cat.
How was this my life?
And I never even got to use my vibrator.
Madix
Ah, hell. The clothing looked even better in real life when she opened the door, looking confused as she stared up at me. My brain totally flatlined, unable to even muster up a hello as I took a step forward.
Proving that he was a little shithead, Harambe ran ahead of me and jumped on her legs before I could stop him. The weight of his body pushed her back into the door, causing it to swing open wide enough that I could now get past her. Not that she wouldn’t have let me in, but it gave me extra time to think about what I needed to say without adding in the problem of forming the words, ‘can I come in?’, too.
Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all?
When she just stood there with her back to the open door, I stepped forward again so that I was in her space. There was no way I was staying out of it right now.
“Close the door, baby,” I whispered, cupping her cheek. She seemed to want to look anywhere but at me at that moment, so I used that hold to gently tilt her head back to look up at me.
There was just over a foot difference in our heights and I kind of liked it. I’d always imagined having a tall girlfriend or a tall wife – and it was way too soon to say that we were headed that way – but I liked our differences in heights. It just added to Dahlia’s list of appealing qualities, all of which I’d always assumed I wouldn’t want in a woman.
“I’d really rather not,” she said so quietly that I almost didn’t hear her.
My head jerked back slightly, but instead of asking the question that I really wanted to – did she not want me here? – I took in her posture and the way she was standing. She had one foot lifted slightly off the floor, but it was her hip that was lifting it rather than a bent knee, which struck me as odd.
The height difference became an advantage as I straightened up and looked over her shoulder, even though she tried to block me by leaning backward. This shift made the door move slightly behind her, almost knocking her off balance. As she leaned forward again to stop her backward fall, I got to see what was holding her back.
When she’d been knocked into the door by my dog, apparently she’d hooked the side of her panties onto the door handle.
Don’t laugh. Do. Not. Laugh!
It took a lot of self-control, but I managed it. Just.
“Do you…” I trailed off and swallowed hard. “Do you need a hand?”
The lacy looking fabric was stretched so tightly that it had to be hurting her!
Crossing her arms, she looked up at me defiantly. “A hand with what?”
“Baby, your panties are stuck fast. If you move even slightly, that door is going to move either backward or forward, and with one leg stuck in the air, you’re not going to be able to stop yourself going with it.” I stopped and left her to absorb what I was saying. It was true, she really could end up hurting herself, regardless of how funny the situation was. When she took her time, I pressed my point further. “And if you fall, you’re gonna end up in agony when that fabric either tears or keeps you suspended in the air.”
“The door knob was put on the door by an Amazonian,” she muttered. “Then they fucked with me even more by putting my kitchen cupboards so high up I need a stepladder to reach anything in them.”
I couldn’t help it, I started to chuckle. Here she was hooked to her door by her underwear, and she was bitching about the height of her kitchen cupboards?
I bit my lip when she glared at me again, but that was when I also noticed the tightness around her eyes. Her current predicament was causing her pain, and this meant that all humor left the situation.
“Do you have any scissors?” I asked her, looking at it all logistically now.
Sighing, she crossed her arms, awkwardly balancing on her right leg which was the one on the ground and not suspended by her panties. “I actually don’t. I was banned from using them when I tried to cut into that tough packaging stuff they put around boxes. You know the stuff that’s designed for you to carry it with, but it’s like a flat strip of wire?” I nodded, knowing what she was talking about well. Having only recently moved, I’d been the lucky recipient of many boxes of furniture - that had needed to be put together – which had the damned st
uff around them. The packaging was a pain in the ass, but the memory of the furniture really pissed me off. How many Townsends had it taken to put together my coffee table? The answer was all of them, and it had taken eight hours. “Anyway,” she continued, pulling me out of my furniture reminiscing. “I cut into it and the scissors snapped in half and almost took my finger off.” She held up her left index finger and pointed to a space right beneath the middle knuckle. Clear as day was a deep scar creating an extra dip on the digit. “If that wasn’t bad enough, the packaging stuff snapped up and also cut me here,” she pointed to a tiny scar under her chin. “After that, Dad dealt with all of it.”
“If you’re going to blame it on your shit luck, baby,” I growled, crowding closer to her. “You’re wrong. That was an accident, it can happen to anyone. When I got my end tables, I opened the box the wrong way and a heavy piece of wood fell out on my foot. Then, when we were putting together my dining table, the screwdriver we were using slipped out of Levi’s hand and went into his leg, right above his knee. Accidents happen.”
Looking at me wide eyed, she took in what I was saying. “Maybe you’re bad luck?”
Snorting, I reached behind her and took hold of the material that was hooked. I couldn’t use a knife in case I slipped and cut her beautiful butt cheek, so ripping it was what I’d do.
“I think maybe we should just leave it where it is,” she whimpered. “Get me a chair and I’ll sit here for the rest of my life.”
“I’m not leaving you here,” I chuckled, giving the material an experimental tug. When she gasped and then whimpered again, I let go and took a step back so I could check on her. “What’s the issue? Are you in pain?” Maybe she’d cut herself too?
Her face turned even redder, and she looked to the side of us, and then followed it up by doing a double take. Looking in the same direction, I saw Harambe, Bing and Baileys all sitting in a line watching us with their heads cocked to the side.
Mad Gold (Providence Gold Series Book 2) Page 8