Date Night

by Meghan Quinn

  Her mouth gapes open, and she reciprocates with her own pull.

  A sharp hiss escapes me as I match the private part tug of war we’re playing with each other. Boob to penis; who’s going to win?

  “I will pull this dick right off you,” a crazy-looking Mary Sue threatens.

  “I will twist your tit off your chest and chuck it like a grenade,” I counter, feeling slightly put off by my own statement.

  From the pull in her brow, so is Mary Sue.

  “Boob grenade?”

  Losing all sense of concentration on my role play, I chuckle. “Yup, boob grenade.”

  Leaning a little closer, Lauren appears and says, “Things just got weirdly kinky. I blame you.”

  “Tug a little more on my dick and things are about to get a lot more kinky when I come in my pants.”

  “That’s not kinky, sweetheart, that’s reliving our first time together.”

  “And isn’t that exactly what you wanted?”

  Laughing, she releases me and wraps her arms around my neck, pulling herself close until her lips are a whisper away from mine. “What I want is to lay you on our bed and ride you until you make that sexy guttural groan that makes me come every single time.”

  Damn.

  “Does that mean Mary Sue is taking a break and Lauren, my beautiful wife is making an appearance?” I slide my hand up her back to the clasp of her bra where I undo it, letting the straps fall down her arms. With the hook of my finger, I snag the front and pull the fabric down until it pools at the ground, revealing her generous breasts.

  “Lauren wants to fuck her husband.” She stands on her toes. “But Mary Sue wants an affair with the sexy ranch hand.”

  “Which one wins out?” I ask, moving my hands to her breasts, ready to cup them . . .

  . . . when Lauren’s phone rings on the counter.

  I intend to ignore the call but when Lauren reaches for her phone, frantic, I realize she’s about to answer, topless.

  Who could possibly be that important?

  Chapter Three

  ALEX

  “What are you—”

  Lauren shushes me with a wave of her hand, stands behind me and holds the phone out to the side, showing all of my bare chest and just her head.

  Before I can protest again, she accepts the phone call and Noely, my sister’s face comes on the screen. The minute she takes me in, she scowls and looks away.

  “Jesus Christ. Why am I seeing your man nipples?”

  I try to duck away but Lauren holds me firmly in place, thanks to her being topless.

  “Why did you answer a call from my sister?” I ask between clenched teeth.

  “Maybe because she’s watching our daughter.”

  Oh, right.

  Turning her head back at the phone, she takes in the screen and Noely’s scowl deepens. “Why are you wearing a cowboy hat? Oh my God, are you two role-playing?” Isn’t this just fucking lovely?

  “Hey!” Lauren says, waving. “How’s everything going?”

  Ignoring Lauren and her peppy voice, Noely asks, “Are you topless?”

  “Just a little.” Lauren laughs.

  “Wow, I think I might throw up in my mouth. Please tell me Alex at least has pants on.”

  “He does,” Lauren confirms. “But my hand was down them just seconds ago.”

  “Things I don’t need to know.” She shivers with revulsion. “God, now I’m picturing it. I am going to have to scrub my brain with bleach after this.”

  “Oh, come on, you’re telling me you don’t role-play with that sexy man of yours?” Lauren asks so casually, as if we’re having beers out in the backyard and not that we are in the midst of getting frisky. Talk about one way to deflate that raging hard-on I once had.

  “Maybe we don’t talk about this,” I interject. “Why don’t you just give us an update on our kid so we can be on our way?”

  “He’s talking about sex,” Lauren adds, because . . . why not?

  “Totally got that from the getup and annoyance in my brother’s brow, but thanks, Lauren, for confirming.”

  Lauren winks at the phone. “Anytime, sweet cheeks.”

  “Do you maybe want to make yourself presentable before I hand the phone over to your daughter?”

  “Yes.”

  “No,” Lauren and I both speak at the same time. “We’re good, just put her on.”

  “Lauren, we really shouldn’t—hey, hi honey,” I say as Chloe comes into view.

  Nose wrinkled, she brings the phone closer and asks, “Daddy, how come I can see your boobs?”

  Lauren and Noely both cackle in laughter as I try to cover up my chest, but the shirt is far too small to block any sort of view to my innocent daughter.

  “They’re pecs, sweetheart, not boobs, remember? We talked about this.”

  “But I see your nipples.” My hands instinctively cover both said nipples with two fingers to each areola. What’s great is that Chloe doesn’t even notice that Lauren isn’t wearing a shirt, instead she decides to fixate on her father’s nipples. She’s far too much like my wife, it’s startling.

  Still laughing, Lauren says, “Honey, Daddy was just trying on a new shirt. It didn’t quite fit. He’s going to change once we’re off the phone.” Yeah, change into an Ebenezer Scrooge’s nightgown—cap and all—and call it a night. “Are you having fun with Aunt Noely?”

  “Sure am. She was showing me pictures of her boyfriend.”

  “Nice babysitting,” I mock.

  “What?” She shrugs. “She asked and who am I to deny my niece what she wants?”

  “If she asks to drive your car, you’re going to let her?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  Excited, Chloe looks up at Noely and asks, “Can I drive your car, Aunt Noely?”

  “Maybe Daddy’s. Mine is in the shop.”

  “Oh, Daddy, can I drive when I get home?”

  Why did we ask Noely to babysit again?

  “You’re not driving until you’re twenty.”

  Lauren whacks me in the arm. “Sixteen. I don’t want to be driving her around everywhere when she’s older.”

  “Valid point, Lauren,” Noely chimes in.

  “Can we be done with this conversation?” I grumble.

  Sensing my tone, Lauren says, “Okay, honey, you have a good night and be good for Aunt Noely, okay?”

  “Yes, Mommy. Be kind to Daddy, because he looks like he’s about to go eat his feelings again.” Nope. Daddy had wanted to eat his wife out, not his feelings . . .

  Noely lets out another cackle, and that’s when I steal the phone, blow my mouthy daughter a kiss, and then hang up. I drop the phone on the counter and run both hands down my face.

  “Well, that was a mood killer. So glad you answered.”

  “Oh, stop being salty.”

  Spinning around, I look my wife dead in the eyes and say, “I’ve lost my boner and all semblance of passion for tonight. Your daughter said I have boobs.”

  Her lips curve up but for the sake of her life, she holds back the laugh. “You and I both know she gets confused. You don’t have boobs, Alex. You have thick man pecs.”

  “Yeah. Whatever.” I look at the time. “I’m going to go take a shower and binge on some Netflix until the food arrives.”

  Not giving Lauren time to answer, I head upstairs feeling slightly sour from the entire conversation. Yeah, sure, talking to your daughter to make sure she’s okay is valid, but we could have called her back in half an hour. Knowing Noely, Chloe is not going to bed on time, and will most likely stay up to hours way past her bedtime. According to Noely, that’s her right as an aunt.

  On the way to our bedroom, I stop abruptly when I spot a trail of red stuffing that leads to Chloe’s bathroom. Tempted to follow the trail to solve the mystery, I take a deep breath and start to walk by it when Mary Sue’s voice appears from behind me.

  “Aren’t ya going to follow the clue?”

  “No,” I answer as Alex,
and continue to the bathroom just as Mary Sue let’s out a long whistle.

  “Never imagined you’d be yellar.”

  She’s trying to goad me, but I don’t fall for it.

  “The first time I saw you on the ranch, riding our most volatile horse, Prairie May, in the fields and doing it with ease, I thought you were fearless. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you’re secretly a coward who is deterred by a little ribbing.”

  That makes me take pause. I really think about the situation and my wife’s attempt to get me back in the moment. Once a month, we get a chance to live different lives, to explore another realm to our relationship. Once a month, we get to do some crazy, yet fun and exciting things that is in complete contrast to our normal and very typical life. So why waste the night from a few choice inadvertent insults from my daughter?

  She is only six after all, and words fall from her mouth without thinking.

  Not wanting to ruin this and all the effort my wife put into making this a fun-filled night, I turn around, hands on my hips and kneel down to the stuffing where I carefully pick it up and examine the vibrant red.

  In my best southern accent, I say, “This stuffing is still warm, which means the killer must be close.”

  The beautiful smile that stretches across Lauren’s face reminds me exactly why I look forward to this night every month. This makes her positively happy and full of joy. I would do just about anything to make sure that smile is a permanent fixture in my life. And in hers.

  “Look, it leads to the peddler’s bathroom. Should we go in?”

  Standing there shirtless, her boobs swaying with her movements, Lauren acts completely serious, living out the life of her character.

  “We don’t have our guns.”

  From the stairs, she pulls up our Nerf guns and hands one to me. “Always prepared.”

  I give her a slow once-over and say, “I hope that’s true in all aspects.”

  “Always,” she reiterates and then moves behind me, using me as a human shield. “You go first, just in case the murderer is in there. You know how to take a bullet, right?”

  “Sure, took a class on it a year ago,” I joke. “You kind of just stand there.”

  “You’re so heroic.” She pats my back with a light push to lead me forward.

  Gun propped up like a professional, I nudge the bathroom door forward and peek around the corner. When I don’t see anything, I push the door all the way open.

  “Ahhh,” I scream like my six-year-old daughter and start swatting at an enormous dangling insect, terrified that a tarantula is trying to claw my eyes out. “Fuck!” What the fuck? “Get it off me, Lauren.”

  From behind me, Lauren is laughing hysterically while trying to say, “Get it, Clyde, get that spider,” in between fits of giggles.

  When I swing hard and miss, letting the gooey—yes, gooey—spider smack me once again in the face, I nearly faint but catch myself on the doorframe as the spider tangles in the back of the collar of my shirt. Its spidery legs caress my neck, and that does it.

  I yelp, run in the air for a few seconds like a cartoon character, and then take off down the hallway while reaching behind me and shucking the creature into the wall. From behind, Lauren hands me my Nerf gun and says, “Quick, shoot it.”

  As if a foam dart is going to do damage.

  Instead, I raise my foot, and I’m just about to stomp the intruder to death when I get a good look at the unmoving piece of hairy plastic lifelessness on the floor.

  Unmoving. Piece. Of. Hairy. Plastic.

  It’s . . . fake?

  Embarrassed and angry at the same time—Lauren knows how I feel about spiders—I turn toward “Mary Sue”, who’s trying not to buckle over in laughter. Instead, she stands there, shoulders bouncing up and down, her mouth pinched, holding back her huge smile, and her beautiful tits are jiggling up and down.

  “You think that’s funny?”

  She shakes her head, barely containing her laughter. “Not at all. That spider could have eaten your face off.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I take a step forward, closing the distance between us until I’m right up against her. “Those things are poisonous, little lady, and I just escaped death.”

  “Death?” she whispers, her smile peeking out now.

  “Yes, death. If it wasn’t for my quick reflexes, I would be spoiling on the floor right now, and you’d never know what it would feel like to have my lips all over your body. Do you think you could have handled that, Mary Sue? Never knowing what it feels like to have my dick inside of you?”

  The smile vanishes and her eyes light up with heat. “That would be a travesty, a situation I don’t think I could possibly bear.”

  “I know I couldn’t.” I grip her ass and yank her in snug against my chest, her hands falling to my heated skin. And before she can say another thing, I spin her around and lay her quickly across the ground, bringing my lips down to hers. I capture her mouth in a scorching frenzy.

  I had a near-death experience, after all.

  Her body shifts under mine, lifting her chest so her pebbled nipples brush against my short chest hair, as her tongue demands entrance to my mouth.

  I don’t give in at first. I drag my mouth along her jaw to the sensitive spot right behind her ear, the one spot I know will send chills up and down her sexy body.

  I part my lips and let my tongue smooth over her soft skin and then I nibble, eliciting a long, sexy moan from her lips.

  “Touch me,” she whispers, moving my hand to the hem of her underwear.

  My finger drags along the edge, tracing over the appendix scar on her side and then back to the center, where I dip my touch under the silk fabric and to the top of her pubic bone. A fresh intake of breath fills her lungs as I crawl my fingers even closer.

  Her legs spread.

  Her body hums.

  And I still, moving my mouth back to hers where I press our lips together and slip my tongue past her lips, while my fingers slide along her crease. Her hips thrust up and my finger glides along her clit, making her legs fall even wider.

  This will never get old, the way my wife gives her entire body to me, with no hesitation. Ever since I can remember, she’s been a sexual creature. Back in college, she was always sneaking into my dorm room, surprising me at all hours of the night. It got to the point where we’d just share my twin bed and she’d never leave. Things have slowed down a bit now that we’re married and have a six-year-old who sucks all the energy out of us, but when we find that moment to have together, it’s like we’re in college all over again.

  I drag my finger up and down her already slick slit and dive my tongue deeper into her mouth, tasting and testing how turned on she really is. When a moan erupts from the bottom of her throat and her hips start to circle, I know my answer.

  She’s already there.

  I add two fingers to my strokes, draw smooth circles over her pulsing nub and then slip them inside her for a brief second before coming back to her clit, rubbing her until she tears her mouth away, flicks her head to the side, and grips my shirt, bunching it up on my back.

  “Yes,” she moans softly, and when I apply more pressure, she becomes louder. “Yes, right there.”

  I still my fingers, just applying pressure, letting the moment build, the tension gather in her core.

  “I want to hear you beg for it, Mary Sue,” I say in her ear. “I want you to plead for me to continue.”

  “God, please, don’t stop. I’m right there. I want you to make me feel so good. I want you to make me come, give me a brief glimpse of what it could be like with your dick inside me.”

  Grunting, my cock hard as stone, I move my fingers again, this time faster. Round and around, hard and then soft. In and out. I repeat the sequence over and over until her hands fly to my head and pull on the short strands, knocking the cowboy hat to the floor.

  “Oh fuck,” she screams as her upper body lifts off the floor and her body stiffens.

  I rub her out un
til she’s a puddle of woman on the floor, limp and sated. I’m dying here. Dying to taste her. Dying to be inside her. Dying to fuck hard and loud, something we rarely do these days. God, I want her. Love her. Desire her. And she’s all mine.

  I gently rub my fingers up and down between her legs until she looks like she’s passed out completely. That’s when I remove my hand, lean down, and press a very soft kiss across her lips before whispering, “Come now, Mary Sue. Your vagina has been given justice. We still have a mystery to solve.”

  Chapter Four

  ALEX

  Lifeless on the floor, Lauren . . . Mary Sue doesn’t move, as I stand up and adjust my painful hard-on. Do I want to fuck my girl right now? Abso-fucking-lutely. But this fella can wait. This is Lauren’s night, and we have a murder to solve. Once that’s done, we’re heading straight for the bed. Tonight’s about hard banging, lots of noise, and multiple orgasms. So, I’m holding off until we’re on a comfortable mattress and I can use the springs to really give me the good push.

  Staring at my boneless wife, I say, “Darlin’, do I need to solve two murders on this ranch rather than one?”

  She dramatically drapes a hand over her eyes. “Possibly. Your fingers being the key weapon in this case.”

  When she peeks past her arm to look up at me, I draw my fingers from my pocket, form them into a gun and blow on them, only to stick them back in my pocket.

  Groaning and chuckling, she lifts up and says, “That was such a douchey move.”

  “What? These little weapons were just smoking, so there’s nothing wrong with blowing them off.”

  “Keep at it, and see if you get any after we find out who murdered Carl, because with corniness like that, my libido is sinking rapidly.”

  She holds out her hand, and I help her up and lower my forehead to hers, staring her in the eyes. “I’m pretty sure those corny lines got you into my bed in the first place.”

  Picking up her southern accent, Mary Sue says, “Bless your heart, you haven’t been in my bed.”

  Wryly, my lips shift to the side. “Only a matter of time, darlin’.”