by Xavier Neal
“Open,” Wyatt’s voice suddenly commands.
I glance up at him in curiosity.
“She’s not Lassie, bro. Speak to her like a human.”
Wyatt wets his lips slowly in mischief.
“And not a human you wanna fuck.”
The blonde chortles. “Picky. Picky.”
A small giggle slips out at the same time Pax and Nate travel up the patio steps.
My boyfriend immediately asks, “What’s so funny?”
Holden answers before I can. “Wyatt’s trying to seduce your chick with food.”
Nate lifts my feet, sits down, and lets them settle in his lap. His eyes travel to mine surprisingly filled with mirth. “Should I be worried?”
“Never.”
“I didn’t think so.”
We exchange a warm look that’s met with groans of annoyance.
I hide my snicker and Wyatt extends a piece of grilled chicken on a fork towards me. “Try this.”
“Fuck. Manners, bro,” Holden scolds again.
“Please, try this.”
Rather than allow him to feed me a bite, I pull the piece of meat off the fork and slip it into my mouth. Instantly, the heat from the chicken fuses with the spice of the glaze setting my taste buds on fire. The burn is brutal yet so flavorful I can’t help, but moan at its excellence. The world is probably a much better place because he does this for a living.
Cockily, Wyatt says, “Looks like I can make her moan too.”
“Yeah, but you can’t make her scream,” Nate playfully sneers back.
Redness begins to fill my cheeks causing Pax to question, “You red from the food or embarrassment?”
Holden gives me a crooked smirk and states. “Both.”
The four of them laugh at my expense and the color deepens.
Never have I been treated like I was one of the guys, hell one of anything really. Even when it’s me, Sloane, and Scott, it typically reaches a couple in progress vibe that I’m just invading. Feeling welcomed and unjudged in a group like this is amazing. They’re comfortable treating me like family and I’m comfortable becoming it. Nate swears he’s the lucky one, but I think it’s me. I haven’t had anyone to truly call family since my father died and now…now I feel like I do.
As Wyatt wraps up telling us about the long process of creating his famous beer chicken with Sriracha glaze, the guys start collecting the other items for dinner insisting I stay stretched out like some sort of queen to be waited on.
Eventually, we’ve all got plates filled with grilled chicken, corn on the cob, and twice baked mashed potatoes that have bits of bacon and cheese melted on top.
It’s quiet during the first few bites as we all get lost in the incredible flavors, but eventually, Wyatt speaks up to defend himself. “Just so we’re clear, this shit is child’s play and doesn’t even touch my real skills. Even the lobster risotto was elementary school bullshit.”
“Well it’s still amazing,” I gush and lick the sauce off my thumb.
Nate groans beside me grabbing my attention.
With a wink, I repeat the action again knowing the punishment for teasing is going to be better than whatever is actually in store for dessert.
“Remember when we were all living at The Row and he made those ribs with that weird green sauce shit?” Pax recalls from the chair beside Holden.
The three of them laugh before Holden gags. “Yeah, what the fuck were you thinking?”
“I was thinking I was trying to bring a little culture to the group,” Wyatt bites.
“Bullshit. You were trying to bring a little culture to your cock. You were going out of your way to impress that chick you thought was Mexican but was really Puerto Rican,” Nate reminds him.
He gives a slight shrug. “I knew what I was doing. Way to a woman’s pussy is between her lips. Put something good there and her legs just drift apart…”
The retort causes all of them to chortle and deny his theory.
While we eat, they tell me stories from their college days. I learn it was called The Row because that was part of the street name their house was on. The nickname helped allow for Holden to do shit in code when messing with law enforcement and also prevented unwanted guests from overhearing information they shouldn’t have been privileged to. Everyone takes a roll in explaining the open-closed door policy of the parties and the lengths they went to keep it sacred. They recall Nate paying a college chick their age at the time to watch Holden and his dead wife’s son on party nights so they could still enjoy being young. By the time we’re all finished eating and just sitting around sipping beer, they’ve ditched the logistics and started recalling wacky moments I can hardly believe.
Wyatt scoots his chair closer to the outdoor fire pit as the wind kicks up to reminds us it’s Spring. “Watching chicks get off has always been Pax’s thing. Remember that shit with the camel?”
I try to hide the horror on my face. “What?!”
“Yeah, Pax once watched a girl fuck a camel,” Wyatt nonchalantly says and has a swig of his beer. “He’s a kinky fucker.”
“I didn’t watch her fuck a camel, asshole,” Pax declares defensively from the other side of the pit, closer to where Holden is in his chair. “I watched her try to jerk it off.”
Shaking my head slowly, I cringe, “That’s not much better.”
“Exactly,” Holden adds with a chuckle.
“Wait.” I adjust my feet that are back in Nate’s lap. “Why did you have a camel to begin with?”
“Because you can’t have an Arabian themed party without a camel,” Wyatt says as if I’ve offended him.
“Remember that Jell-O slip and slide we had for Nate’s birthday sophomore year?” Pax questions with mirth in his voice.
“Man, I was picking Jell-O out of my ass for weeks,” Holden complains. “And that shit stained Beth’s hair so bad she had to lie and tell people she died it on purpose.”
More laughs fill the air and I watch in awe of the friendship they’ve spent years cultivating. As much as I love Sloane, sometimes I wonder if we’ll make it past the summer. I mean, isn’t that what happens when you go to college? You lose those you were close to in high school? What if I lose Nate?
My attention swings to him just as he tosses his head back in deep laughter.
No. Graduating may end up dividing me from my best friend solely because we’re going to end up at two different colleges, but nothing can take me away from Nate. Nothing.
“Then there was that time you were trying to blow a shot gun in that girl’s mouth,” Wyatt continues a story I missed the beginning of thanks to my insecure thoughts. He pauses and looks at me, “Do you know what a shot gun is? Do people still fucking do that?”
I have a small sip of my beer. “Isn’t that where you blow your pot smoke into someone else’s mouth?”
Nate’s head sharply turns to me. “You smoke?”
With a reassuring smile, I shake my head. “Relax. I’m a good girl.”
“Except when you’re being really bad like in a concession stand closet,” Holden mutters, grabbing our eyes.
My jaw hits the ground in surprise while Nate tries to hide his guilt.
“Ditching the shot gun story to hear this one,” Pax declares. “You fucked in a closet on campus?!”
“Can we….” Nate’s voice struggles to stay even. “Can we finish one Nate story before moving onto the next?”
“Yeah,” I encourage not wanting to talk about it either, but not because I’m embarrassed so much as I know once we do, I’ll want to disappear to our room to recreate it. “What happened with the shot gun?”
Wyatt’s inebriated state allows for easy distraction and I’m relieved. “OH! Yeah. So your boyfriend was blowing one into this redhead’s mouth and then bleh.” He mimics vomiting. “Threw up right in her mouth! It was insane!”
“It was fucking raunchy,” Pax says, beginning to laugh.
“And that was the last time I ever tried to do one of those,” Nate sheepishly sighs.
All of us laugh together and bask in their memories.
Having a look at the man Nate used to be, the one he keeps tightly tied up unless he’s with me, is remarkable. It makes me love him so much more than I already do. I hope someday, the wild and reckless guy is more comfortable coming out than just during sex.
“I wanna make a toast before I crash,” Holden states, preparing to lift his beer.
“Already?” Wyatt whines.
“Some of us have been up since the ass crack of dawn,” he reminds him. “And have to be up again at the ass crack of dawn.”
“Why?”
My question receives his attention. Without delivering too much information he informs, “Work.”
“But aren’t you on vacation?”
Holden’s face becomes one that instills sympathy in me. “No real vacation for me until time served is complete.”
His odd choice of words clamp my mouth shut. What the hell does that mean?
Nate’s hand begins to stroke my thigh in a comforting way. We lock eyes and he simply shakes his head as if to imply I should let it go. So I do.
“This is a big year for all of us,” Holden quickly begins before I can change my mind on asking more questions. “We hit the 3-0 and that means something. We’ve spent our 20s together wreaking havoc and then paying for it in tenfold. Let’s spend our 30s making better memories. Making ones that matter. With people who matter.”
They raise their beer together in solidarity and I raise mine as a toast of encouragement.
Doesn’t matter that this isn’t a milestone birthday for me this year. He’s still right. You should spend your time making memories with people who matter, despite your age. And that’s exactly what I’m going to keep doing.
NATE
It would be a nice lie to tell myself this is exactly how I planned my thirtieth birthday. That I’d spent years imagining I would spend it at a beach house for a few days with my bros, wake up to watching my gorgeous girlfriend shower, and be utterly grateful to be feeling alive again. That I knew the day was going to come when the old me bumped into the new me and somehow managed to make it work. Which is exactly what they’re doing. They’re making it work. I realized yesterday during the drive I no longer feel like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde around Ainsley. No. She bridges the gap. She appreciates and accepts both sides. Hell, I didn’t even realize how much I truly missed the old days until I was face deep in her pussy with Pax watching over my shoulder. That’s part of who I missed being. The one not afraid to push comfort zones. The one who trusted his bros enough to have them watch him take a woman and not worry they would end up jealous or that she would want one of them instead. Ainsley kicks up my level of confidence where it once was. As much as I love the signed Die Hard poster she bought me for my birthday, I have to say, not feeling like I need to be an overcautious dick is the best present she’s given me.
The water shuts off and I angle my head on the pillow to get a better view. Her body turns to present me with the perfect shot of her slippery curves. She gathers her wet hair to one side to twist the remaining moisture out and my cock thumps against the sheet from the idea of me tugging it instead.
Ainsley reaches for the towel just on the other side of the glass. Immediately, I declare, “My birthday. No towel.”
She squeaks in surprise. “I didn’t know you were up.”
I tuck one hand behind my head. “My girlfriend who is like sleeping next to a space heater was no longer in bed. The lack of fire directly against my skin woke me up.”
Ainsley gives me a glower. “I don’t run that hot.”
“Kid, I could roast marshmallows over you during the night.”
She gives me another displeased expression, this time trying harder not to laugh.
At the sight of a smile seeping through, I command, “Come here.”
After giving her body a quick shake in hopes of ditching some of the water I refuse to let her dry off, she strolls over to me slowly, each step causing my cock to throb in anticipation. Without having to be told, Ainsley pulls back the sheet and straddles my lap. She smirks proudly at my hard on before wrapping her wet hand around it. A pleased, heavy groan echoes around the room and she guides the tip of my dick to graze her clit. Ainsley rolls the head back and forth against it, using my cock like her own personal toy. She takes her time teasing it against her entrance like I need proof about how quick she gets soaking for me. Just seconds before I yank her onto my dick, she pulls back, reverses the position, and eases herself onto me. My moans sync with hers as my cock is provided passage to the only place it has ever considered home.
Once I’m to the hilt, she peers over her shoulder and seductively whispers, “Happy birthday, Teach.”
“Fuck,” I grumble helping lift her body up to repeat the previous action. “It is now…”
Ainsley lets a whimper fall from her pretty parted lips at the same time her bright brown eyes shut. Seeing her so pleased already makes a smirk slide onto my lips. She begins a slow rocking that seems to nudge at the deepest, darkest desire inside her. Torn between wanting to tear her pussy apart and live forever in this erotic haven, I force myself to tuck my hands back behind my head and just enjoy watching her ride. Ainsley, aware of her current control, gradually glides her hands up to her tits. Her hands cup them before stroking her nipples. Suddenly, she gives them a pinch, and the pleasure she provided for herself causes her to arch her body. I growl but keep my composure. When she repeats the act, I give my hips a sharp thrust up to remind her it’s my job to make her moan. Rather than taking my warning, she lowers her hands between her pussy and gives it a stroke. In one swift swoop, I’m up with one hand winding tightly around her wet locks while the other latches onto her hip.
My voice rasps, “This is my pussy. And don’t you ever forget it.”
I pound brutally into her, yanking her head back alongside every blow. Ainsley withers against me in a fit of desperate cries. The sound of her voice shifting from angelic to hoarse tightens my balls and tempts me to come. I growl through the sensation of her pussy beginning to pulse and continue to sink myself into her sweet depths. When her orgasm crashes over her, her movements attempt to falter, but I quickly relocate my hand to the front of her throat to help keep her anchored in place. Her breath starts to heave and I relinquish the hold on her hair to wrap the arm around her lower half. With our bodies now flush against one another, I give her throat a harder squeeze as I come. Choked sobs of satisfaction reverberate throughout the room, throughout me, and I let my own beastly bellows join them.
The moment I’m completely spent, my grip on Ainsley loosens, and she crumbles forward.
Pride swells my chest as it always does when we’re finished.
I give her back a gentle stroke and she whimpers. Carefully, I pull myself out, drop a kiss on her cheek, and whisper, “Again in the shower.”
Ainsley grins but doesn’t object.
You know, this is a much better fucking birthday than anything I could’ve cooked up. Endless sex with the woman I love. Beers on the beach with my bros. This is the best fucking birthday I’ve had yet, and I get the feeling that this one is just marking a new beginning.
After an additional two rounds of sex, a cup of coffee, and the usual argument of who should drive, the five of us end up a few miles down the road at the pier, which is one of my favorite things about visiting here. The entire area is over run with food stands, games, music, and occasionally stunt shows performed in or by the water. With my camera dangling around my neck and my hand proudly in my girlfriend’s, we aimlessly stroll around, playing games like Skee Ball and dancing to the Beach Boys medleys.
On our way towards the food stands, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Unsure of who it could be, I quickly check the text with my free hand.
Father: Your mother and I wish you a happy
birthday. Sorry I had to work late and dinner had to be rescheduled again. We will make it work when you return home from your vacation.
Not having dinner with my parents before my birthday didn’t bother me nearly as much as I am imagining it bothered my mother.
As we stop at a corndog stand, Ainsley quietly asks, “Everything okay?”
I don’t bother replying. I slip my phone back into my pocket and nod. “Yeah. Parents wishing me a happy birthday. Nothing important.”
She offers me a warm smile and I step up to order us corndogs.
To no surprise, Wyatt denies joining in on the snack choice with a sneer. “No fucking way.”