Must Love Hogs

by Xavier Neal

  I smile at her genuine joy.

  It’s been quite a journey to get here. After initially meeting J.T. an unforeseen long progress began. Over the past three months it’s been what has felt like one long road paved with paperwork and painfully long meetings. As thrilled as I am to be taken under the wing of a much larger company, it has been beyond stressful. The decisions. The indecisions. The people besides myself I have to consider. Wilcox’s team has done the best they can to make the grueling quest of information they need before they can make an offer as smooth as possible, but it has still been a transition filled with many late work nights and even earlier than normal mornings. Thankfully, Ollie’s had her own work projects to keep her equally as occupied, which helped the guilt I was feeling stay at a low minimum. She’s never complained about any of it even when it means a couple days without going at it because we’re both too tired to do more than cuddle to sleep. I think it helps we’re both willing to make the most of the time we’re given together. Our walks with Princess Pinky. Our dinners. The five minutes we get to just breathe each other in before one of us is snoring. I love how she doesn’t use our lack of time together like a weapon to exploit jewelry or shoes or an expensive vacation to Cancun. I love how she’s not that person. I love how she’s not at all like Carol Ann.

  “My family wants to do a huge celebration that weekend…”

  Her eyes widen much like I expected.

  “You and Princess Pinky should be there.” I lift the lid to give the corn and mushrooms a brief glance. “I want you there.”

  Ollie winds her arms tightly around her legs at the same time she rests her chin on her knees. “Like your whole family?”

  Once it’s closed and I’m leaning against the railing again, I nod. “My whole family.”

  She winces.

  “You’ve practically already met everyone.”

  “I haven’t met Oliver.”

  My attention briefly darts away.

  I know my brother isn’t going to snake her away, but it doesn’t mean I’m in a hurry to risk it. As much as I love Ollie and I know she’s the only road for me, sometimes I’m not sure she feels the same way. The tiny sliver of fear may or may not be what keeps me from putting her in the direct line with someone who probably understands more about her gaming rambles. I’m constantly clueless.

  With a teasing look, she asks, “Are you afraid he’s gonna try to whisk me away, Farm Boy?”

  My arms fold across my chest. “Can’t whisk someone away who doesn’t wanna go, Darlin’.”

  “Exactly.”

  Her words relax my tense shoulders.

  “So…everyone will be there? All your brothers? All their wives? All your nephews?”

  “And my parents,” I add matter of factly, “who are pissed they haven’t met you yet.”

  “They’re pissed at me?”

  “Well more at me for not hog tying you and just dragging you home.”

  She snickers, and I take the opportunity to find peace in the sound.

  “They’re offended. They feel like you’re avoiding them.”

  “I am.”

  “Why?”

  “What if they hate me, Ford?!” She snaps irrationally loud. “What if they demand you break up with me immediately and resume dating someone who better suits you? Someone who knows the difference in Holstein and New York cows.”

  “Jersey.”

  My correction is met with a look of horror.

  I have clearly missed the point…

  “Ford-”

  “Ollie, stop,” I swiftly command. “They’re going to love you exactly like I do.”

  Her bottom lip slips between her teeth and my cock begins to stir again from my eyes focusing on the area I haven’t spent much time with lately.

  After giving my stiffening situation an adjustment, I correct, “Okay, not exactly like I do, but that’s a good thing. If my parents wanted to see you naked we would have a different batch of problems.”

  She laughs again as she shakes her head.

  “I swear it’s not as bad as you’re thinking. They really are going to love you.”

  Ollie gives me a small shrug. “Fine…I’ll…meet your parents.”

  Moving a little closer I tease, “Could you say it like it’s not an invitation to Death Row?”

  The giggle she offers me lets me know she’s just nervous, which I can deal with. That I can help her work through.

  I attempt to give her a sweet smile, knowing the last thing on my agenda I needed to discuss.

  She catches the change immediately. “Oh God, what else do you have to tell me? Did someone die?”

  “No.”

  “Then what?”

  My hesitation is proceeded with a small squeeze to the back of my neck. “My lease is up next month as well. And I was wondering…since I…practically live here most of the time already, what you thought of me just moving in all together.”

  Shock floods her face causing my throat to close.

  Fuck. This was a bad suggestion. What was I thinking?

  I allow for a few moments of silence to pass and busy myself with removing the veggies from the grill.

  “You want to live with me?”

  The question catches my attention between actions. “Of course, baby. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “I don’t know,” she mumbles, her feet falling to the ground. “Maybe you like your space? Maybe you like the fact you don’t have to come home to me every night?”

  “Baby, I do come here every night I’m not too tired to make the drive. Where you are is where I wanna be. And eventually, I would love for us to spend more time out at my house too, but for now our time here is enough.”

  All of a sudden a smile crawls onto her face. “I’d like that.”

  Taken off guard, I question, “Yeah?”

  “I mean, I’m not really an outdoors fan…bugs love me and sneakers hate me, but I like the idea of being welcomed in your home, Ford. Since the beginning of our relationship we’ve always been here. It would be fun to…balance that out, ya know?”

  Pride pumps through my veins at the same time I put the plate on the table. “Absolutely.”

  “Maybe we start with the weekend of your celebration?”

  “You wanna spend the whole weekend out at my house?”

  She nods slowly.

  “Think you can handle that?”

  “Guess we’ll find out.” I begin to cross my way over to her when she swiftly adds, “Oh! And I want a key that weekend. That way if you have to work late and can’t make it back to our apartment, I can make you dinner at your house or bring you dinner.”

  Now in front of her, I let my eyes soften along with my smile. “You said our apartment. Does that mean I can move in?”

  Ollie grins. “Yeah, but you’ve got to learn to put the toothpaste cap back on.”

  I chuckle as I lean down closer for a kiss. “I’ll work on that.”

  She tugs me by my shirt to her lips and all the city sounds disappear. Our tongues collide and crash with avidity. The feeling of having been separated too long becomes overwhelming. My hands mindlessly roam down her chest eliciting a distinctive moan of approval.

  When my hand grazes her thigh, she drifts them further apart to allow better access. “Don’t you have meat to cook?”

  Ignoring her comment, I slip a finger around the edge of her shorts to find her pussy already soaking. Our foreheads knock together and I state, “No, I have to take care of this. You always come first, Ollie.” I give her bottom lip a nip at the same time two of my fingers thrust inside. “Always.”

  She arches forward and grips my biceps for leverage. With my eyes caressing all the curves I wish my hands could I continue to slide my fingers to the hilt before easing them back out only to repeat the process. Her pussy greedily clenches as if trying to cage them in place.

  “Feet over the arms,” I command.

  Without question, Ollie makes the adjustment, offering me
complete access to the only thing I love the taste of more than my own beer. I keep my pushes steady, but when she begins to lift up in anticipation, my speed slightly increases. Ollie struggles to keep her screams from filling the city and the sight almost seduces my dick into coming on the spot. As her movements become frantic, clit now under the ruthless reign of my thumb, I dig my teeth into my bottom lip, only wanting her soft whimpers to flood the air.

  Her fingers paw at my shirt in hopes of support. “Ford, I’m gonna come…”

  My actions increase in ferocity and as warned, Ollie deliciously detonates. She tosses her body forward and her head back. Her pussy quivers with such force my knees have to lean against the chair for support. The sound of my name whispered in repetition rips away the meal plan I had before and promptly replaces them with feasting on something else.

  I slowly drag my fingers out, loving the way her body shakes during the process. Afterwards, I give them a hard suck, and insist, “You now. Dinner later.”

  There’s no argument.

  With a crooked smirk, I turn to shut off the grill and put away the cooked food when I notice it’s gone. “Shit…”

  Ollie’s concern is immediate. “What? What’s wrong?”

  I spin around on my heels, lean to the side to get a glimpse into our living room where Princess Pinky is finishing the last of our sides.

  A defeated sigh escapes me as I toss my head at our gluttonous pet.

  She catches a view of the sight and her hands fly to her face to catch the giggles.

  I shake my head, allowing my grin to grow to much wider proportions.

  This is now officially home sweet home…Girlfriend. Hog. Good food and great reasons to laugh. Even if life never gets any better than this, I’ll still die a very happy man.

  “What the hell?!” Ford screams viciously. “What. In the. Actual. Hell?!”

  “You have to be the worst gamer in the history of gaming,” I mutter while adjusting the shape of the head I’m drawing.

  He drops the controller onto the couch beside him. “How can you say that to me? I would never say something like that to you.”

  My head snaps up with a sarcastic look attached. “You said something like that to me last week.”

  “I did not.”

  “You did too! When we were playing beer pong with Blake and that pair of fake boobs he was trying to impress. You turned to me and said and I quote, ‘Baby you are the worst at beer pong’.”

  Which I probably am. I’m not coordinated enough to play normal sports let alone one that requires me to have to drink at a frequent rate. Oh! And guzzle down a drink I don’t even care for, though Ford’s beer is truly amazing. I never complain when he brings some home for us.

  Ford’s face cringes. “Shit, I did say that, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, but you were drunk, so I chalked it up to mostly that and punished you by making you sleep on this very couch.”

  He didn’t object, but the next morning was filled with groveling, pancakes, and aspirin.

  “Speaking of this couch, what do you say we get rid of it, and replace it with mine? It’s much more comfortable.”

  I give him a teasing smirk. “Well, you’re the one who is going to have to sleep on it when you’re an asshole so…”

  He laughs and gives me a gentle bump.

  Afterwards I state, “If I’m going to be honest, it’s probably not all your fault you suck at this game.”

  “Thank you?”

  With a short sigh, I drop my sketchbook onto the coffee table, and reach for my gaming laptop. “When games are made for both the PC and the console, some of the great game play, along with the graphics gets dumbed down. Often those who suck on the console are better on the PC. Not to mention this game looks much more incredible on the computer, even if it was made several years ago. Let me show you.”

  Ford shakes his head. “You have too many computers.”

  Once my password is typed in, I cut him a sharp glare. “Excuse me?”

  “Too. Many.”

  My glower deepens.

  “You have one desktop at home, one at the office, one laptop for work, one for gaming, and one for personal use, which I guess is shopping? I don’t know. But I do know, that’s three too many.”

  A dramatic hand lands on my chest. “That’s like trying to tell you you have too many cows or chickens, Farm Boy.”

  “No…” He says between chuckles. “Completely different.”

  “I don’t expect you to understand. You would’ve lived in the flip phone era forever if given the chance.”

  “They were just simpler!”

  “Your lack of technology love is frightening…”

  Yet adorable. As much as my life revolves around what I can create on paper, as much as what I can make come to life on screen, I appreciate Ford’s appeal to be away from it. To look around at what’s happening in the real world. I love how he demands we leave cell phones at home when we take Princess Pinky for a walk or how he drove us down to the lake a couple weekends ago and made us leave them in the car. I love how his life doesn’t revolve around the beeping of a message or the obnoxious scrolling of a newsfeed. I love how we balance one another out. I need those things and he needs to enjoy the ability to stay home to engage in things like alien shooting tournaments.

  It only takes a minute more before the game is pulled up on the screen. Sweet Bloody High’s intro begins to play and the shock on Ford’s face is intoxicating. His surprise spliced with his pride of knowing those were my art designs has my thighs floating together in an attempt to stop the inevitable desire of wanting him between my legs. Having someone so thrilled over my achievements, especially ones I don’t even consider worth mentioning any more, is a huge turn on. Hell, just having someone be supportive of me on the level he is, is one of the biggest turn ons I’ve experienced.

  I clear my throat in the process of cooling down my heated thoughts. “Anyway, so as you can see, the game is the same, but the graphics are much sharper on the computer. The game play is as well. You might actually survive longer than a horde on easy.”

  He gives me a playful smile. “That’s twice you’ve basically told me I’m a shitty player, baby.”

  “You are a shitty player, Farm Boy. But I love you anyway.”

  The casualness of the comment brightens his beam even more.

  It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve said it. We exchanged those the night after our first time together. It wasn’t forced or predicted. We were falling into bed and they just fell out of us. It was the first time I’ve ever said those words to someone I was dating. Surprisingly enough it wasn’t as scary as I was imagining. Like everything else with Ford, it was easy. Natural.

  Ford tosses his head at the sketch pad. “What are you working on now?”

  “Boss infected. I prefer to work backwards when it comes to design. Highest level, ugliest monsters, and then each one a little less terrifying.”

  He nods, a mischievous look in his eyes. “Care to explain why that one looks like Carol Ann?”

  I pretend to give him an innocent look. “Hm?”

  His chuckle is followed by a swift pulling of me into his lap. “Let me get this right. One of your boss monsters looks like Carol Ann, meaning another probably looks like Daryl.”

  My arms twirl around his neck, but I remain silent.

  “And the hero looks like me…Which must mean the woman he’s saving looks like you.”

  “No.”

  “What?”

  I give the edge of his hair on the back of his neck a gentle stroke, knowing how turned on he gets from the soft touch. “I am not something that belongs in a video game, Ford. Heroes are hot and strong and burly to give those obviously not the ability to feel that way for the hunk of gameplay they are submersed in, while the female characters are the embodiment of what the average male wants to see naked. So…larger than average boobs-”

  “Which you have-”

  “Perky-
”

  “Yours are perfect.”

  “Flat stomach-”

  “Prefer the way yours curves.”

  “Exaggerated hips, thighs, and ass to be the traditional coke bottle figure but in a flattering way.”

  His frown deepens. “But I think you look better naked than that does.”

  I ignore his comment. “She’ll also probably be in something tight. Most likely long hair and blue eyes. I’ve yet to design her, but there’s a formula to fill out in the traditional third person, RPG games.”