Must Love Hogs

by Xavier Neal

  He surrenders his hands, but looks down at me and mouths, “Don’t get married.”

  I hide my chuckle behind my hand at the same time she pops him in the arm. While I’m expecting an argument to ensue, she gives her dark brown hair a ruffle, and coos, “Why don’t I remind you why you did…”

  Her slow stroll backwards grabs a faint groan out of him. Like a dog desperate for a bone, he follows her, saying he’ll save us a table if they get there first.

  “Who am I ridin’ with?” Blake questions promptly.

  “Damn sure not me,” Oliver mutters.

  “Of course not. You’re the only one who doesn’t seem to understand the importance of a vehicle with more than two seats. You’ve never been invited to the back before.”

  “You can ride with us,” Dawn chimes in, “but I swear we will leave you there to fend for yourself if your ass isn’t ready to go when we are.”

  Big Foot gives a short chortle yet states, “You heard my wife. She makes the rules.”

  “Pussy whipped,” Blake tisks.

  His large hands pull her against him so her back is flushed to his front. “Every happily married man is pussy whipped to a healthy degree as you just witnessed thirty seconds ago. Unlike Eddie however, I completely understand when it’s time to be lead and when it’s time to…” Big Foot grabs her butt. “Take charge.”

  She squeaks. “Let’s get goin’…I worry Mama is going to change her mind about watching the boys when she realizes Will and Wy’s bed time routine now consists of begging for a spoonful of peanut butter because Dad thinks it’s okay to treat the children the same way he does the dogs.”

  Rather than argue he nudges her forward.

  I stand to my feet and ask, “Where’s Ollie?”

  “Here,” my girlfriend’s voice pipes up.

  The moment my attention lands on her my body melts against the railing. Completely speechless, I allow my eyes to drink in the celestial sight of her curly hair dangling from underneath one of my cowboy hats, her plump chest squeezed into a tight white t-shirt, and her ass tucked into a pair of cut off blue jeans I know don’t belong to her.

  “Damn,” Oliver comments under his breath, yet loud enough to still be heard.

  My jealousy from earlier increases exponentially. With one toss of my head, I firmly command, “Go.”

  He doesn’t hesitate to walk away.

  As irresistible as Ollie looks right now I wouldn’t hesitate to put a hurt on him so bad calling it an ass whooping would’ve been selling it short.

  Once Oliver’s a safe distance away, I turn back towards her, still floored by the look.

  Ollie’s eyes try not to fill with nervousness from my lack of response. “Do I look okay? I’ve never been to a country bar before. Or…really many bars before.”

  “You look like a dream come true, Darlin’,” I whisper out and close the distance between us. “But not the mother of my hog.”

  She surrenders a small snicker at the same time her arms wrap around my neck. “Is that a bad thing?”

  “No.” My hand tilts her chin up so our eyes can stay connected. “But I don’t want you to think for one goddamn minute you need to be anyone other than the woman I fell in love with and keep fallin’ in love with every day.”

  Relief floods her expression. “You really do love me just the way I am, don’t you?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She grins sweetly. “Maybe a little more with these cowboy boots on?”

  I give her a playful shrug. “Maybe a little…”

  Ollie fakes offense, swats at my chest, and starts laughing again.

  “Where’d you get those anyway?”

  “Apparently Dawn and Sienna conspired this little ensemble for me when they heard I was finally coming out to dinner-”

  “See-”

  “And wanted me to have the whole ‘country experience’ down to the shorts and boots.”

  I let my eyes graze over the outfit once more. “They really are the best sisters-in law a guy could ask for.” Ollie attempts to nudge me away, yet lets out a small whimper when I yank her against my growing cock. “What do you say we…are a little late?”

  “Ford…”

  I let my lips fall to the crook of her neck. “Keep sayin’ my name and we’ll be alotta late.”

  Ollie’s girlish giggles melt away as we back up into the entryway of the house. With a small kick of my foot, the front door shuts, and we fumble around the corner into the living room. The two of us manage to stay tangled during our couch landing, but shortly after, she pulls back with a seductive smirk. While my plan was obviously to get her naked and those boots in the air, the look in her eyes lets me know she has something completely different in mind.

  She adjusts her straddled position in my lap. “I know you wanted a quickie on the couch…”

  I nod with a smile, loving the way her tiny fingers are now toying with the buttons on my shirt.

  “But once these shorts come off, they aren’t coming back on.”

  The joke successfully receives a laugh.

  “Dawn basically had to hold me down while your mother and Sienna sewed them on.”

  My hands firmly grip her ass to check for proof the shorts are tighter than they look.

  “So I was thinking…” her words trail off as does her touch.

  Entranced with every move she pulls, I follow it down to between her thighs where she gives my dick a good grab. My fingers flex in a preventative form and she moans in enjoyment of the coarse action. Carefully, Ollie crawls out of my lap, tits making sure to brush my body in the process. The moment she’s on her knees, hat tossed to the side, she wastes no time loosening my jeans and helping me shed them along with my boxers. I barely have time to catch my breath before her blazing mouth is bathing my cock. A raw rumble lurches from my lips at the same time my fingers wind themselves through her thick locks. I shut my eyes tightly. I make a strong attempt to steady my breathing. Ollie swallows me further, praising every inch of my dick with wet whirls determined to make me come on impact, regardless of all my efforts to do the opposite. I grip tighter as a precaution yet she interprets it as encouragement to slip me to the back of her throat. The tip of my cock begins to caress the unfamiliar territory with celerity.

  I don’t need her to deep throat me for it to be a great blow job. It’s not a requirement she chokes on my dick for me to find satisfaction. I’m not that type of man. Never have been.

  Prepared to remind her of the fact, I force my eyes open. However, the enticing vision I am being granted causes my balls to tighten in desperation to explode. Ollie’s beautiful head of bouncing curls is bobbing while her tight, round ass is not only peeking out from underneath her shorts, but slightly swaying side to side. Astounded with the visual stimulation on top of the physical one, my eyes fall closed again, this time clamping down as tight as they can go.

  Knowing I’m not going to last much longer, I allow myself to completely submit to Ollie’s ceaseless efforts. An unusual intoxication fills my system from the licentious licks, long, lewd moans she’s leaking, and the loving efforts of trying to ‘conform’ with a lifestyle she never saw herself in.

  I give Ollie’s hair one final, sharp pull to warn her of my breaking point. She sucks harder and it darts my eyes open to see her staring up at me with excitement. My balls clench to the point of pain and my cock erupts between her succulent lips. Ollie continues sucking, draining me of what feels like an endless orgasm. Groans wrestle with grumbles until my entire body gives way. The feeling of her tongue cleaning up every last drop left behind on my sensitive dick and balls sends shivers down my spine. When she finally releases me, I lifelessly slump down, and struggle for more air.

  This weekend just keeps getting better and better…I pray to God I’m just being overly paranoid about something bad happening. Nothing can keep me from loving Ollie, but it doesn’t mean I want nor need that fact tested when things are this perfect.

  “Swe
ar he gives the Shaw name a bad reputation,” Oliver grumbles from his seat at the table directly across from us.

  “Nah,” Big Foot argues from his middle position, Dawn settled on his lap the same way I am on Ford’s. “The whole town knows Blake’s the Shaw that chases skirts. Always has been.”

  My eyes continue to stare at Blake, who has one hand in the back pocket of the woman he’s talking to at the bar, and the other stroking her cheek.

  He’s charming. There’s no denying that. Just because I have the courtesy of seeing life behind the shameless efforts to sweep women off their feet and into his bed, doesn’t mean it’s not true. It simply means I’m smart enough to realize he’s giving them a show…often the show I think he feels they need as much as him.

  “And you’re the grumpy one,” Big Foot continues, now amused with himself.

  “I’m not grumpy,” Oliver grouses.

  Dawn gives him a sympathetic look. “Bless your heart…You couldn’t even say that without being grumpy.”

  We all chuckle, but it seems to infuriate him as opposed to ease. Oliver abruptly stands, sighs, and snaps, “I’m gonna go…away.”

  “Aw come on, Oliver,” Big Foot tries to dial back his laugh. “It was in good fun.”

  He waves us off and storms to the left, the direction of the bathrooms.

  “You know, he seemed really fun when we were chatting this afternoon,” I interject, looking over at Big Foot. “He seems…different around all of you though. Is that normal?”

  Big Foot shrugs. “Pretty much.”

  “You probably made him feel comfortable,” Ford says, grip noticeably tightening. “You like the same shit. In our family, he’s the odd ball.”

  “Is that bad?”

  “We don’t think so, but I think part of him hates it.”

  “He damn sure hates to be called odd ball.” Big Foot tips his beer at me. “Mama tried that from the time he was about two until Runt was born. It was hell. Partially because Blake, being an obnoxious shit even as a kid, rubbed it in his face.”

  I shake my head in slight bafflement.

  It’s strange to me. Despite as close as they all seem and appear to get along, there is clear division among them. I mean, to a degree it makes sense, I guess. Siblings fight. But in their family with the amount of closeness constantly displayed, I have trouble understanding the dynamics or why it exists more harshly at sometimes than others.

  The song changes and Dawn demands, “We have to dance to this song, Big Foot! This was the first song we ever danced to!”

  He gives her a crooked smile. “It wasn’t.”

  “It was.”

  “That’s the beer talkin’.”

  She pauses, contemplates, then sweetly says, “Maybe it is…Maybe it isn’t…Either way, I wanna dance to this and if you wanna see me naked in the next thirty minutes you will whisk me off to that floor right now.”

  He lets out a hearty laugh while Ford and I try to hide our snickers.

  “Alright,” he puts his beer down, “but I’m warning you now, if my feet crush yours you can’t use that as an excuse for an extra foot rub.”

  Dawn pecks him on the cheek, yet victoriously winks at me afterward.

  He said extra! I caught that! Man, I would kill for one tonight when these boots get the fuck off of my poor feet. I think I’m going to take up flip-flops only for at least three months to balance this out. They make winter flip flops, don’t they?

  My eyes drop down to Ford’s, which is when he kindly asks, “You wanna dance too?”

  “We weren’t just going to sit here all night?”

  The hope in my voice causes his already wide smile to stretch. “You don’t put on shorts that tight and boots that sexy not to show them off, Darlin’.”

  Fair point.

  I hesitate to confess, “I don’t…I don’t think I’m coordinated enough to dance out there.”

  His head tilts at me sarcastically.

  “What! They’re spinning and looping and clicking.” My overdramatic movements seem to revive his previous chuckles. “I don’t know how to do any of that. My legs and arms had a coup early on in my life. I never managed to take the control back.”

  Ford’s laughter continues until my own helplessly joins his.

  It’s amazing how his laughter is even more intoxicating than the liquor I’ve been drinking.

  All of a sudden, a woman’s voice says, “Ford Shaw!”

  We turn to view a petite brunette with her hair in low pig tails and chest displayed in a striking low, cream colored halter top with fringe at the scoop.

  A wave of ‘Save a Horse’ jokes start tumbling around in my head forcing my lips to press tightly together in hopes of trapping them inside. The last thing I need is to get kicked out of their favorite hometown bar for being drunk and disorderly. And by drunk and disorderly, I really mean tipsy and trashy.

  My boyfriend sits up a little straighter. “Chastity.”

  I grit my teeth harder.

  Her name can’t really be Chastity. You can’t look like the stripper name you are…That’s not fair! How am I not supposed to make jokes like that? Oh thank God Camilla isn’t here. She would and then I would laugh and then a bar fight would almost certainly ensue.

  “You look amazing,” she gushes, hands sliding into the back pocket of her jeans. “All things considered.”

  He doesn’t bother hiding his grunt. “Thanks.” Ford motions his hand towards her. “Chastity is Carol Ann’s older sister.”

  Ah.

  Chastity’s brown gaze falls on me. “And you are?”

  “Ollie.” I offer my hand.

  “My girlfriend,” Ford emphasizes as we shake.

  “Good for you!” She squeaks when we’re through. “Glad you’re not just mopin’ and pinin’ after my sister like you usually do between your break ups.”

  The choice phrasing rubs something in the back of my mind I’ve been trying to ignore. They do usually break up and make up. Despite the fact I know he’s done because he says it and acts like it, a small part of me worries there’s still something there. Fourteen years of back and forth isn’t just something most people can brush off. I know Ford’s not most people but still….

  “Nope.” He clears his throat. “I moved on and am much happier than I’ve ever been.”

  I give him a sweet smirk.

  “Good!” She squeals. “’Bout time. My sister never deserved you anyway…”

  There’s a hint of flirtation in her voice that’s hard to miss.

  “Well you two have fun tonight. Saw you and figured I would give you a quick hi before bailin’.”

  “Better places to be?” Ford asks politely.

  “Karaoke bar back in Highland. Meeting some friends from work. Just stopped by here to check out the crowd.” She glances over her shoulder the direction of Blake who is still sweet talking the woman at the bar. “Better luck next week.”

  “Enjoy your night,” I kindly say only to receive a forced smile in return.

  Once she’s out of view, I tease, “I think she really liked me.”

  He chuckles, disregards the comment, and commands, “Up you go, cowgirl in training. We’re headed to the dance floor.”

  Ford ushers me out of his lap and drags me to where people seem to be having an outrageous amount of fun dancing to a cover band. The two of us take a position closer to the outskirts. Immediately, he starts moving his body encouraging me to do the same. Regardless of my repeated head shakes, I somehow begin my avid search for the beat.

  Dancing has never been something I was good at. I guess I never really had to be. I never went to school dances, including Homecomings or Proms. I never went out to parties in college or nightclubs. Thankfully, Camilla realized early on I wasn’t that type of friend, and never tried to make me into it.

  With a smile bigger than the state, Ford slips his fingers through my front belt loop loops, and tugs me closer to him. His hips lead mine while his hands assist fr
om their settled position on my ass. We move and chuckle through the music, though Ford spends more time mindlessly singing along than bothering with instructions. Before I know it, I’m doing better than I was. However, as I should’ve predicted, he decides to mix it up with a couple spins in place and a couple spin outs I’m not coordinated enough to return from. My face continuously burns in embarrassment yet the fact he never stops trying, never stops grinning, never takes his eyes off mine, smothers the flames flawlessly. His loving actions are always quintessential.