by N. A. Alcorn
Did I just say find my pearl? Eh, I’m too drunk to care at this point.
“Mmmmm your little oyster tastes so good,” he moans against my snatch.
God, why did I have to say oyster?
Now, he’s calling my pussy a little oyster and it’s honestly only making me hungry for clam chowder. I continue to watch Moby deep-sea dive into my vagina. He keeps rubbing his nose against my clit like a weirdo. Who taught this guy how to eat pussy? This is the worst oral sex I’ve ever experienced in my life, and if I weren’t so drunk, I’d probably be really pissed.
I’ve got Edward from Twilight’s glistening face between my legs.
I never knew my vaginal secretions were so shiny!
Did Edward go down on Bella when she was still human? That seems like a dangerous game. What if he tried to earn his red wings? Eek! Vampires earning red wings… Now that’s a scary thought. Speaking of vampires…
“Do you like that, Amy? Tell me you like my tongue on your little oyster,” Moby lifts his face and whispers in my direction.
“Uh huh… Keep going. Right there,” I encourage as I push his head back down.
What was I just thinking about?
Oh yeah, vampires! What is with all of the paranormal erotica these days? I just can’t get into that stuff. Vampires and witches and warlocks and werewolves having sex. It’s kind of weird and creepy. How about tiny dildo-peddling elves with raging boners? Or fairies with proclivities for Ben Wa balls. Now, that’s some paranormal erotica I could possibly get into! I should write a Christmas book about elves with raging, mega-huge boners who have gangbangs in Santa’s toy shop. I start to giggle at the thought of Mrs. Claus getting banged from behind by Thrusty the tiny elf with the twelve-inch penis.
Moby stops his sloppy movements and peers up at me. “Everything okay up there?”
Is everything okay up here?
Not really. I’ve got Moby the investment broker going down on me like a blind man looking for a braille guide to my clit and I’m making up paranormal erotica stories about tiny elves with raging hard-ons thrusting into Santa’s wife. I grab a handful of Moby’s hair and yank his head away from my numb vagina. “You know what, Moby? Everything is not okay. I forgot I have to go feed my cat.”
His mouth drops open. “You forgot to feed your cat? We’re at your apartment… I haven’t even seen a cat.”
“See, that’s the thing, Moby. My cat lives in her own apartment. I forgot to stop by and feed her and well, she’ll be pissed at me if I don’t stop by tonight.”
“My name is Cody.” Moby’s face is nearly expressionless as I crawl off my bed and start putting my pants back on.
Holy saliva!
This guy might as well have dumped a gallon of spit between my legs. I’m going to need a shower before I can even think about putting pants back on.
“Well, Moby. I’m going to hop in the shower, before I head to my cat’s apartment.” I throw a towel towards him and he catches it automatically. “You’ve got a little something.” I point to his forehead and then to his cheeks and then… “Actually you’ve kind of got a lot of something…everywhere.” I wave my hand in the general direction of his wet, glistening face.
His jaw nearly drops to the floor as I turn around and head for my bathroom.
Poor Moby.
I wonder if vaginal fluids are a good moisturizer for your skin.. I think his complexion, which is now shining like the sun, actually looks better now after he went deep-sea-muff-diving. What if my special sauce is like the next Botox? Everyone would want a piece of me! I could be famous! Maybelline would be begging me to squirt my juices into their cosmetics. My pink taco would have her own makeup line and facial cleansing products. I might need to look into getting a patent…
Although my night did not go exactly as planned, at least I managed to get a few good laughs at poor Moby’s expense. I would contemplate using my shower time as masturbation time, considering that he didn’t exactly get me off, but my poor girl is still numb. I’m not sure if it’s from all of the tequila or the terrifying oral skills. If I decide to have any more one-night stands, I think I need to have men fill out some sort of questionnaire that highlights their sexual experience.
Amy’s Sexual Experience Questionnaire
1. Have you ever had a woman stop you in the middle of oral sex because she said she needed to feed her cat who lives in another apartment?
2. How big is your cock? Please give exact measurements.
3. Would you be willing to dress up like an elf?
Chapter Twenty
“Everyone has a moment where they nearly
shit their pants at least once in their life.” - Amy
I think I’m finally over my PTSD from the terrible oral sex experience that was Moby and his shimmering face. Yes, PTSD. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I still can’t fathom how he succeeded in getting my juices on his forehead. Although, his complexion did look better after he’d basically given himself a facial between my legs.
James and I are on our way to a weekend of camping with his buddies. This is a purely platonic trip. We’re just two friendly people who enjoy hanging out with each other, chat on the phone frequently, and seem to have a similar sense of humor that includes discussing weirdoes who stroll through my ER. Despite his cocky and arrogant attitude, he’s one of the best friends a girl like me could ask for. He just has this way of always making me laugh and relaxing into his company. And he actually gets me. This isn’t something that happens very often. I’m crude and raunchy and undeniably sarcastic. These are hard personality traits for most people to understand.
According to James, we’re driving to a campground about an hour from Charlotte. His SUV is packed to the nines with everything you could possibly need for a camping trip. I’ve come to find that being a marine has instilled the mentality of “you can never be too prepared” in James. His obsessive packing abilities have us more than equipped
The drive is scenic, all country roads and beautiful landscapes. The sun is shining brightly and the sky is as blue as the ocean, with white fluffy clouds interspersed throughout. This perfect sunny day in May may as well be right out of a movie.
So now, here I am, continuing to do the whole friendship thing with a man I can’t deny my sexual attraction to. I may as well be attempting to climb Mt. Everest in my underwear. Or finish a marathon while battling a raging case of diarrhea. Speaking of diarrhea… I keep feeling my stomach gurgle and twist into knots. Ugh. My IBS. Irritable Bowel Syndrome.
This is something I’ve had for far too long and it always decides to rear its ugly head in the most inopportune times. Times like weddings or funerals or prom night when you’re sixteen years old and wearing a short, tight white dress and pantyhose. Of course, these are purely hypothetical situations. I wouldn’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re going to shit yourself while you’re staring up into the eyes of your prom date during a slow dancing to a terrible country song about a first kiss.
Nope, that never happened.
There’s no way I had to frantically run to the girls’ bathroom and unleash practically a small human from my rectum while sweat dripped off of my face and I felt like curling up into the fetal position.
Yeah, okay, that happened.
Not my finest hour, but let’s face it, we’ve all been there once. Everyone has had at least one time in their life where they’ve nearly crapped themselves. You can never forget that terrible, panic-driven moment when your stomach clenches and you feel like your asshole just pissed itself. That moment when your stomach starts to bubble like a fresh water spring and the poop sweats start to take over your pores. Then you’re faced with the stark realization that there are only a few seconds left to get to the nearest toilet before you shit your pants like a geriatric patient hopped up on Metamucil. Don’t kid yourselves; this happens to everyone at least once in their life.
My stomach loudly churns and James peers my way with a questioning glance.
“Did that just come from you?” His eyes go back to the road.
“Uh…yes?” I say as if I’m asking him a question while I’m fidgeting slightly in my seat from the irrefutable discomfort.
“Are you okay?”
I feel another sharp pain pierce through my lower abdomen and I clutch my stomach tightly. “Y-yeah, I’m fine.” I discreetly wipe the bead of sweat that’s now dripping down my face.
“You don’t look okay.” He takes his palm and places it on my forehead. “You’re sweating and clammy and you look like you might throw up.” His tone is laced with worry.
Yeah, throw up or shit myself right here in your SUV.
Another wave of pain rushes into my stomach, piercing my asshole, nearly making me jump right out of my seat. This. Sucks. And then I feel it, that panicky moment. The moment when you know—you motherfucking know—that you have to get somewhere like fifteen minutes ago.
“Actually, you’re going to have to pull over like now! Like right now!” I tightly clasp my ass cheeks together, desperately hoping I can avoid staining his seat with my anal secretions.
“Now? Holy shit! Are you okay?” James is starting to panic right along with me. He quickly pulls off to the side of the road and brings his SUV to a skidding stop. “Are you going to throw up?” He hurriedly gets out of the car and comes over to my side, promptly opening my passenger’s side door.
“No. Not throw up. I’m going to shit myself if I don’t get my ass somewhere soon!” I’m frantically looking around, trying to find a good place to unload the fury that is pressing on my sphincter. “Do you have toilet paper?” I groan in pain as I continue to grit my teeth and clench my ass cheeks, awkwardly hopping from one foot to the other.
“No I don’t think I do. Shit! I can’t believe I forgot that!” He’s watching me dance around like an idiot with wide, disbelieving eyes.
“Fuck! I need something! Quick, find me something!” I moan loudly.
“Uh…” He’s frenziedly trying to solve my current ass dilemma. “Here!” His eyes perk up. “Here! Take this!” He proceeds to take his gym shoe off and hand me his sock.
Did he really just hand me his sock? To wipe my ass with?
Oh, son of a bitch! Who cares! I don’t have time to think about this. I speedily rush into the woods before dropping my pants and giving the trees my best performance. I nearly moan at the feel of relief as I’m finally able to shit myself silly. Fuck me, that feels so much better. I brace my hand on a nearby tree and drop my head to my chest, breathing deeply, reprieve finally setting in. I quickly clean myself with James’s sock and stroll back out of the woods like a new woman. I’m refreshed and I think I may have lost ten pounds.
James is leaning against his SUV, grinning up at me. He’s never going to let me live this down. “Better?” he inquires, a slight smirk cresting the corners of his lips.
“Much. Thanks for your…er…sock.” I brush a strand of hair behind my ear.
James chuckles a little before asking, “Where’s my sock?”
“In the woods. There was no way in hell was I going to carry that thing back. Although, the idea of you wearing my shit on your foot is kind of entertaining.”
“So now it all comes out. Amy has some seriously kinky tendencies. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Oh. My. God. Just get in the car so we can get to the campground,” I demand before hopping into the passenger’s side and securing my seatbelt. James slides in next to me and starts the engine, slowly pulling us back onto the main road.
He eyes keep slanting my way and I can tell he’s fighting the urge to laugh.
“Go ahead, dickhead. Have your laugh. Let it all out,” I deadpan, giving him a glance.
And the dam bursts open as James rushes into a fit of laughter, slamming his palm down on the steering wheel, tears stream down his cheeks. “I just c-can’t…believe! Holy shit! My sock! My fucking sock!” he wheezes out.
All I can do is shake my head and chuckle along with him, because I can definitely see the humor in this entire scenario. “I had no idea you got off on me crapping all over your personal items. I’ll make a mental note of that for later. You know, just like any good friend would do.” I lightly tap my fingers on the passenger’s side door.
“You’re the most ridiculous woman I’ve ever met.” James slides a sly smirk my way. “And you owe me a new pair of socks.”
I snort. “You got it. I’ll buy you a new pair and make sure to take a huge dump on them before I put them in a nice gift bag with tissue paper and a thank-you card.” My sarcasm knows no bounds. This entire sock debacle has made me more than aware of how much I love my friendship with James. I can be myself and he accepts me for me—no hesitation. I think I can squelch down my undeniable attraction and questionable feelings for more in order to avoid from losing his friendship.
Ignore the comment about more.
There’s definitely no pressure to act like the perfect lady around James. I could fart in his face at this point and he’d just find some sort of humor in it. He’s kind of remarkable that way. Somehow, someway, James has managed to become a huge part of my life, and now, the idea of him not being there, well… It makes me feel uncomfortable. Maybe even a little depressed. James is important to me. I just hope I can manage to keep his importance as just a friendship perspective and nothing else. The last thing I want is for my tendency towards destruction to ruin the amazing relationship we’ve established.
****
We make it to the campground and start unloading his SUV.
“Williams!” A blond-haired guy yells in our direction. He’s tall, burly, and someone I would describe as ruggedly handsome. He walks over to us with a giant smile plastered on his face.
“Jameson!” James grins. “Good to see you, man. I wasn’t sure if this was ever going to happen.” They give each other the official half-hug/man-pat, and it’s very apparent they’ve been friends for a long time.
His friend looks my way and gives a small, intrigued smile. “Are you going to introduce me to your lady friend?” he asks as he slides his hands in the pockets of his faded jeans.
I glance at James and witness an intense stare down occurring with his friend, which only seems to make the guy smile wider. “Mark, this is my Amy. Amy, this is Mark.” Mark immediately holds his hand out to me.
Did he just say ‘my Amy’?
I take Mark’s hand with gentle finesse and give him a friendly smile. “It’s really nice to meet you. I’m assuming you’re one of James’s Marine friends?”
“The pleasure is most definitely mine, babe. And yes, James and I go way back. I’ve got some stories I could tell you about this guy.” Mark’s grey eyes are filled with beguilement as he takes a step closer to me.
James loudly clears his throat and grabs my hand, pulling me into his side. “Come on, sweetheart. We’ve got a tent to pitch.”
He quickly introduces me to his other three buddies before moving us towards his SUV. I’m shocked that I’m the only girl who gets to indulge in a weekend with the boys. Should I take that as a compliment? Most men consider their guys’ weekends sacred, but for some reason, James invited me along. Interesting.
All four of his buddies are fellow marines, and I’m not going to lie, they’re all kind of good-looking. Hot, actually. This weekend might be more enjoyable than I originally thought.
Everyone has managed to get their tents set up, so now we’re sitting around the campfire eating burgers and hot dogs. All five guys are laughing and talking animatedly about old times. I’ve come to learn that they all did several tours together in Iraq. I can’t help but notice all of his friends, besides Mark, have wedding rings on their left ring fingers. And all five of them are sporting dog tags underneath their shirts. That must be a marine thing.
Mark Jameson is the ruggedly handsome blond-haired guy I first met at the campground. He’s adorably charming and seems to get a thrill of amusement from flirting with me no
nstop. James has made a point to keep me secured at his side while we continue eating our dinner. It’s become quite obvious that he’s keeping me as far away from Mark as possible. If I were the type of girl who obsessed over guys’ reactions, I would say that James seems to get a jealous, stern tone with Mark when he is openly flirtatious with me. But I’m not that girl, right? I’m not the type of girl who gets a small amount of joy out of seeing James jealous when it comes to his friend trying to charm me. Yeah, definitely not that type of girl.
Mark is the only single guy out of the bunch and currently a fireman in New York City. He seems like the perfect fireman type. Mark is strong and has a body that could definitely pull people from burning buildings without any problems.
Jack Jacobs is another one of James’s buddies. He’s a really sweet guy who happens to be a fireman in NYC too. I can tell Jack and Mark have a special camaraderie between them.
Alan Franklin and Tom Silver are James’s other two buddies. They’re both the strong, silent types and happen to be police officers in Nashville. Alan and Tom run the same beat and it’s obvious that working together in that line of work has developed a special bond. Both of them look like police officers. Clean cut, buzzed heads, and serious, firm demeanors.
I’m grateful that James brought me along on this camping trip, because getting to know a few of his closest friends makes me feel like I’ve gotten to know more about him. Seeing him interact with his buddies, laughing and joking around with them, well… It makes me like him even more.
“Yeah, we’re all slumming away like working-class people while this cocky bastard decided to go to med school and become an egotistical surgeon.” Mark looks pointedly at James and unleashes a clever smile. His comment makes me burst out laughing and practically choke on my beer.
“I see how it is. You’ve known these assholes for all of a few hours and you’re already teaming up with them.” James glances at me with those beautiful green eyes.