by Xavier Neal
“He’s got unique tastes like his Pop. Had to talk about that shit with someone.”
“Mimi, are you sure you don’t need a swear jar?” Kyle questions.
“Positive.” Her smile widens. “Now, I’m guessin’ your birdhouse is the orange one?”
He rapidly nods, grabs her hand, and drags her over to where it’s drying. His mouth is moving a mile a minute, and seeing the two of them so engaged inspires me to return to capturing pictures.
It’s the only hobby I have.
I take a shit ton of pictures throughout the year, post some on social media for my sisters and parents to see yet bundle the rest into scrapbooks that me and the boys decorate on weekends when there’s free time. Then at Christmas, we give it to Mama and Pop as a gift. It’s primarily filled with photos of Kenny and Kyle, but I do my best to squeeze in photos of the other Shaws. Anytime there’s a large gathering, I’m clicking away, capturing this family in all its natural insanity. The album always gets passed around. Cooed over by everyone. It’s a tradition I plan to keep even if this job is doing its best to break me of it.
“Oh!” Mama suddenly squeaks. “Those are very bright colors, Kenny.”
My son’s face lights up. “Do you like ‘em, Mimi?”
“If you like ‘em, I love ‘em.”
Her encouragement warms my heart.
She isn’t like my mother at all. She doesn’t waste time trying to put her grandchildren into the roles she believes they should be nor does she pretend to be involved when she truly only sees them twice a year. No. Mama, as she demands everyone who meets her calls her, is the real deal. She’s unapologetically herself and accepts everyone she meets the same way. Pop and her share that belief, the same way me and Eddie share many. They’re who I hope we grow into being someday.
“It’s Sailor Moon colors,” Kenny quickly proceeds.
“I don’t know what that is.”
Eddie promptly tries to explain, “It’s his favorite cartoon-”
“Anime,” our oldest corrects. “Anime, Dad.”
“I don’t like it,” Kyle grumps. “Too many girls.”
Words I feel he won’t be saying forever…
“How about you two come in the house for some lunch, and Kenny can tell me all about this anime,” her head tilts towards him, “and Kyle,” she repeats the action to his brother, “can tell me about his favorite show?”
“Okay!” They chime in unison taking her hand.
She shoots us a stern look over her shoulder. “Use this time wisely.”
We lightly chuckle and watch them walk back to her house.
I casually saunter over until I’m at my husband’s side. Seeing the finished product of our crafting enterprise, I lift my phone to snap a few more pictures before asking, “How hard are you dying inside?”
Eddie peers down at me clearly in pain. “It’s killin’ me, Cherry Pie. I may need my eyes sewn shut.”
“Never wonder why Kyle’s so damn dramatic.”
“It’s bright pink and neon yellow!”
“You let him pick the colors!”
“They’re what he wanted,” Eddie whines in protest. “And he should get to make his own decisions like that. He should get to watch whatever shitty cartoons he finds himself enjoyin’ and wear cupcake socks if they make him happy. I was given that freedom, ya know?” The internal struggle this subject seems to effortlessly create continues. “But it’s…hard, Cherry Pie. I mean, come on! It’s bright fuckin’ pink! He wants to paint moons and roses on it. That’s chick shit! And I know what kinda asshole that makes me sound like, which is why I don’t say it out loud to our son, but…but…”
“He’s not a ‘boy’s boy’, and you’re still tryin’ to adjust.”
He drapes his arm around my shoulder. “I am.”
“Superman, it’s a really good thing to give him the freedom to be whoever it is he’s going to be. Trust me. I grew up in a household where traditional shit was shoved down my throat and expected of me. I fucking rebelled, and I grew up hating my parents. Still hate my parents.”
“That’s the last thing I want, Cherry Pie. I don’t want our boys, either of them, hatin’ us. Not now. Not later. And damn sure not when they have kids of their own in the very, very, very distant future.”
“They won’t.” I slip my phone into the back pocket of my blue jeans and wind my arm around him. “Or at least not in the long run. I’m sure they’ll hate us when we won’t let them go to a rock concert on a school night or ground them for failing Chemistry.”
“There’s no doubt in my mind both of our boys are gonna be great at Chemistry.”
My eyes roll of their own accord.
“Let’s go for a walk,” Eddie sweetly suggests. “Been a while since we went down to the creek.”
Arm in arm, the two of us head that direction, conversation light and casual.
Our leisurely stroll under the warm spring sun is exactly what we need. There’s no denying the lack of intimacy we’ve fallen into. Between the crazy hours I work at Yasmine’s Yummies and the extracurricular shit our sons are invested in, we aren’t exactly overflowing in spare time.
“Wait, you’re not just helpin’ make the house safer anymore? You’re actually renovating it now?”
Eddie proudly nods. “Yeah, Hollis and George thought the place could use a makeover. I’m startin’ small with the downstairs guest bathroom. It’s not a large project, so it makes it easier to handle around the boys’ schedules.”
“Why do our six- and seven-year-olds have schedules?” I playfully questions.
“Because I’m the dad who can’t say no?” He throws up a hand. “They wanna be active. Running ‘em around to practice and classes and games beats tryin’ to wrestle a tablet out of their hands.”
“Agreed.” My foot kicks a rock out of my path. “How was Kenny’s first dance class this week?”
“Awkward.” Our eyes meet. “Nothin’ like being the only boy in ballet.”
“And the only dad in the room?”
“Nope.” We arrive at the creek. “There were a couple other dads, but given I was at least half a foot taller than most and two inches wider, they weren’t exactly tryin’ to start a conversation or welcome me to the Dad’s Club.”
I don’t bother hiding my snicker. “Did Kenny at least like it?”
“Fuckin’ loved it.” The heavy sigh shakes his frame. “Almost as much as he loves Karate.”
Instead of offering reassuring words on the subject once more, I slip out of his grip and pick up a smooth, flat rock. “Still think you can skip rocks better than me?”
One side of his mouth moves towards the sky. “Cherry Pie, you may be amazin’ at every other sport, but you will never skip rocks better than me.”
“Do you need some toilet paper for all the shit comin’ out of your mouth?”
Eddie loudly laughs.
“Best two out of three. I win, and you give me a foot massage after dinner.” Toying with the rock in my grasp, I describe, “I want the works. Oils. Lotions. Candles.”
He cockily adds, “You want a Happy Ending too?”
“As long as it’s me you’re planning to fuck and not my feet.”
Not into that.
Another chuckle escapes at the same time he folds his arms across his chest. “All right. When I win, I’m gonna fuck you against the nearest tree.”
Just hearing him the say the word tempts me into throwing the match.
God, I miss actively getting my brains screwed out.
Not that Eddie hasn’t been trying.
Or accommodating.
Morning mouth bangs and getting fingered to sleep are appreciated, but they’re not the same as having your husband drill so hard into you that you can barely remember anything other than how to scream his name.
Even when the situation was reversed, he still made time to make sure my body was well sated.
“That’s it?” My voice poorly contains my arousal.
“I’m a simple man.”
“That I love so much.”
His brown gaze fills with mirth. “You tryin’ to butter me up? Get in my head? Get me distracted, so I lose?”
I pretend to be offended. “How dare you, Superman? I would never-”
“Fourth date. Bowlin’ with brothers. You spent the whole night cooin’ in my ear, promisin’ me all sorts of sexual shit I couldn’t wait to get back to my apartment to do, and fawnin’ all over me like I was some Rock Star instead of in construction.”
My smile brightens at the memory.
“It wasn’t until Blake pointed out you were playin’ me that I caught on to the tactic.”
“Hey, I meant every word I said that night!”
“Yeah, but you only chose to say it then, so it’d up my chances of losin’.”
“Which you didn’t really need because you suck ass at sports, Superman.”
His eyes narrow. “Skip your first rock.”
I twist my wrist in a small circle while he searches for his stone. Once he has it, I take a suitable stance, roll my shoulders for a brief additional warm up, and let the object go.
It skips twice before sinking.
“Pathetic,” Eddie mocks. “Pretty sure Runt’s newborn could do better than that.”
“Just…shut up and throw.”
He chortles, takes his position, and prepares to haul it.
I pounce on the opportunity to be a distraction. “Speaking of…how are they doing?”
“They’re great.” Unfortunately, the question doesn’t cause him to miss a beat. “Runt can’t stop holdin’ Clint every chance he gets.” It isn’t until the stone stops six bounces later then he turns to face me. “Ollie kinda reminds me of the way you were when Kenny was that little.”
“Completely paranoid I was fucking everything up?”
“Exactly.” Eddie widely beams. “But fuck me, if it wasn’t a beautiful look.”
The compliment causes butterflies in my stomach.
“Seein’ you like that…Seein’ you so protective, yet so loving, so devoted to our family was just…incredible.”
I try to brush away the praise. “Far from it. I had a permanent look like I was one sneeze away from bursting into tears.”
“Yup.” Eddie tucks a fallen strand behind my ear. “And you were still the most stunning thing I had ever laid my eyes on.”
My bottom lip briefly meets my teeth. “Now who’s buttering up who as a distraction?”
“Is it workin’?”
The switch from sentimental to playful receives him a sweet push out of my space. Quickly, I search for another stone to fling, and Eddie changes topics.
“So, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, but you can’t say anything about it until he’s ready to tell you.”
Snatching up what I have no doubt will be the perfect rock, I turn so we’re face to face. “Until who’s ready?”
“Kenny.”
Unsure of what to expect I remain silent.
“He’s tryin’ out for the school musical on Monday.”
Excitement pierces my expression.
“They’re doing The Little Mermaid.”
The question is instantly formed. “Who does he wanna be?”
“Flounder.”
“Aw!” I gleefully clap. “That would be so cute!”
Eddie holds up a cautious hand. “He has to audition, Cherry Pie. And according to his music teacher, they take this school play shit very seriously.”
“Wait, when did you talk to his music teacher?”
“She emailed me a couple weeks ago saying she was going to suggest to him to audition. Apparently, he’s got quite a voice.”
“Wonder where he gets that from.”
Eddie smirks at my flirting. “It’s first through third graders only. He doesn’t wanna tell you in case he doesn’t get it. Doesn’t want you to get your hopes up.”
My hand flies to my heart.
“And I just wanna say this was all him. Miss Eisenhower said she thought he’d be good in it, and he came to me to ask should he try.”
“Our shy little man is proving he isn’t so shy any more…”
“Eh, shit comes in waves.” He shrugs off. “Not afraid to audition this month yet didn’t wanna give his Black History report on Guion Stewart Bluford, Jr., the first African American in space, last month. Kid’s all over the place.” Eddie reaches down for his second stone. “That he gets from you.”
I give his ass a gentle kick with my foot.
His laughter sparks my own.
Skipping my second rock goes better than the first. Rather than a measly two, its distance doubles. A smug smirk immediately appears on my face in a taunting fashion. He doesn’t bother acknowledging it. Eddie lowers his body, angles his arm, and delivers a powerful flick. The object beats the previous one he threw by three extra hops.
Unable to stop my pout from appearing, I huff, “Goddamn it! How the fuck are you so good at throwing rocks but can’t throw a baseball to save your life?”
“Different objects.”
My head tilts sarcastically. “Obviously.”
His hands find their way to my hips. “Sometimes I forget just what a poor sport you are when you lose.”
“That’s because it’s rare.”
“Fair point.” Eddie nods his head on a snicker. “But it happened.” He slithers his hands downward. “Now, march that ass on over to that tree.” The demand is proceeded by a swift pop on both cheeks.
A suggestive smirk slips onto my lips as I turn around to do as I’m told.
While the tree isn’t remotely far, I exaggerate the wiggle of my hips to add the smallest bit of torture to his wait. Impatient groans leak out of Eddie, and the sound soaks my panties.
There are very few things that turn me on more than hearing my husband greedy and needy. It’s definitely a boost of sexual confidence. After all, what woman doesn’t want her man just as anxious to fuck her post two kids as he was when they first met?
I reach the tree and Eddie growls, “Turn around, and drop your jeans.”
Spinning on my heels to initially meet his gaze, I immediately follow his command, however, like my walk, I embellish my movements. The tilting of my head to the side creates a dark curtain that I innocently peer through. I amplify my heavy breath when my fingers graze the skin near the top of my blue jeans. My body dramatically sways side to side during the process of lowering the article.
Eddie glares at the pair of hot pink panties covering my pussy. “Those too.”
Another devilish grin grows on my complexion.
Oh, he’s going to love what’s underneath.
This time instead of keeping my actions slow and steady, I speed through them to reveal a well-known grooming preference for both of us.
My husband chomps on his bottom lip. “Fuckin’ bare, Cherry Pie?”
“Had a few extra minutes in the shower this morning…”
Definitely our shared preference, just not always a time-friendly one.
“So, while I was busy makin’ breakfast, you were busy preppin’ me lunch.”
The declaration results in my whimpering.
“Turn back around. Face forward. Both hands on the tree.”
I eagerly inch myself around into the desired position.
It’s Eddie’s turn to build anticipation. Regardless of the fact he’s wound tighter than barbed wire, he drags out the moment to ensure that I feel the same amount of sexual suffering he did earlier.
Sure enough, hearing the clank of his belt buckle snatches my breath away. I shut my eyes at the melody of his zipper falling and curl my toes as his jeans jingle to the ground. His large fingers clasping onto my hips causes the wetness that’s been building to leak onto my lips. The first thrust inside sends me soaring onto the tips of my boots. A scream of approval prepares to launch itself from my gaping mouth, yet Eddie swiftly captures the cry against his hand. Not being abl
e to shriek my enjoyment only turns me on more. My muscles wail what my vocal chords can’t. They tense and tighten, suck him in further the exact same way my lungs are anxiously sucking in air.
“That’s it, Cherry Pie. Give me my prize.”
I moan loudly against the noise blockade. Pressing my palms firmly against the bark, I bump backwards into each hard heave only to have my head hit the tree on the return forward. Two of Eddie’s fingers slither down to assist at the same time he tightens his hold over my mouth. The sting of his appendages digging into my cheeks combined with the frenzied stroking of my clit have my body sagging into the overwhelming sensations. Deeper and deeper his dick relentlessly dives. Sharper and sharper he ruthlessly rubs. He pounds so harshly his balls spank my pussy similar to the way his hand usually does. There’s no reprieve to his brutality, and Eddie’s need to barbarically re-stake claim whenever he’s between my legs has my orgasm erupting in record timing. Every inch of me inside and out constricts as an appetizing burn seizes my senses. I warble and whither until his cock releases the reward that makes me the true winner. Searing streams shoot to the hilt, and our orgasms savagely slam into one another. He sucks in spurts of air through gritted teeth while I continue sighing my content behind the confines of his grasp.