Innuendos (It Had 2 B U Book 1)

by V. Kelly

  “Hey it’s our turn,” the three girls in the corner exclaim. It figures that those bitches would be too cheap to each bring a present. They hand Breezy a small package and look over at me smiling. “We cheated.”

  I never understood why Breezy hung out with these girls in high school. Every teen movie Breezy has ever made me watch has a trio of stereotypical mean girls. Well, that label fits these three girls perfectly.

  Tawanya is gorgeous. Her ebony colored hair is kinked into this really rad looking perm that puffs around her head. She has sexy cocoa colored skin that always smells like pomegranate. She’s tall and lean and probably one of the prettiest African American girls I’ve ever been with. She’s also a straight up bitch, and someone you don’t want to cross. She and I had some amazing times together in the past, and I can tell by the way she keeps looking at me, that she’s interested in rekindling some of that old chemistry we had. Oh, did I forget to mention that I’ve almost slept with every girl in this room? Yup, besides family, Breezy, Greta, and Emma, I’ve slept with every girl here, including Carter’s wife, Sen. That wasn’t one of my finest moments, but sometimes you lose all judgment when you’re drunk at a party. She only gave me a blow job, so I guess I can’t really count her.

  Monique is the quintessential blonde ditz and not a pretty one either. I took her to my junior prom, and she was actually the girl who took my virginity. I wanted to take Breezy to prom, but she was dating Orlando at the time. I ended up taking Monique instead because no one else was going to ask her. That girl is dumber than a penguin trying to fly and an incredibly sloppy kisser. She licked my damn face more than she kissed it. By the time we were all done, it was twenty minutes of incredibly awkward sex and seven months of her chasing around my dick like a fucking horny rhinoceros.

  Once I slept with Tawanya and Sheena, she got the hint, even if my car ended up getting keyed because of it. Sheena is probably the sanest one of the bunch. She and I had a purely hook-up type of relationship, and I spent most of high school sneaking in and out of her bedroom window. I think I liked her because she reminded me of Breezy, long brown hair, slender body, and cute personality. I pretty much used her for every Breezy fantasy I had in my head. Yes, I was an asshole . . . but when you love someone, like I love Breezy, sometimes you have to settle for a girl that could possibly be her doppelganger.

  Ugh, seriously? Why am I even thinking about this shit? Right now it’s all about Breezy. I blink out all thoughts about any girls from my past and focus on the one woman who is my world. She smiles at me before going back into her guessing game.

  Breezy looks at the girls and down at the small box. “Is it an animal?”

  “Nope,” they say in unison.

  “It’s something you can wear,” Monique exclaims.

  “Monique, you aren’t supposed to tell her,” Tawanya exclaims.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know there were any rules. When we bought her the vibrating underwear, I thought we were supposed to help her guess.”

  “Vibrating underwear?” Breezy questions.

  “See big mouth. Shut up,” Sheena exclaims.

  Breezy opens the box and giggles over the remote controlled vibrating underwear they bought her. “Thanks guys, I’ll definitely be using these soon.”

  I lean over and whisper in her ear, “Only if you want to lose.”

  She glares at me and smacks my arm. “Shut up, Max.”

  The rest of her presents end up being crap.

  My parents didn’t feel comfortable buying Breezy anything that vibrates, so they gave her a hundred-dollar gift card to Victoria’s Secret of all places. I guess Everly, my little sister, must’ve told them about my underwear prank and they are trying to make up for my childish attempt to win the bet. That’s the last time I call my little sister and tell her anything.

  Carter and Sen gave her a bottle of wine, probably because they own a winery together, and Tony and Emma both got her a spa gift certificate. Tony said Emma wouldn’t do the battery operated, vibrating idea. She said it felt too personal, and she didn’t know Breezy that well.

  Now it was my turn. I planned this present perfectly. It’s what she wants, and not what she wants. She’ll love it and hate me for it at the same time. I put the giant box on her lap. She looks up at me with excited eyes, especially when I press a button and the box barks.

  “Max! You got me a puppy!”

  “Nope, keep guessing.”

  “It barked; it has to be a puppy.”

  “Keep guessing, Breezy,” I tell her.

  “Is it an animal?”

  “Sort of,” I reply.

  “It barks and is sort of an animal? Come on, Max, stop playing around. Is it a puppy?”

  “No, you’re wasting questions by the way.” The box barks again, and this time it moves.

  “Is it a bark box?”

  “What’s a bark box?”

  “I don’t know. It’s a box that barks, so is it a barking box?”

  The whole room laughs.

  “This isn’t fair, Max. I don’t want to play Twenty Questions anymore. Please, can I open my present?”

  “Keep guessing,” I tell her.

  “Fine, is it big?”

  “Yes,” I giggle.

  “Is it hard?” Now she’s fucking with me. She knows exactly what I want her to do, and she’s doing it just to rile me up. Of course, it’s working. My dick is super hard right now.”

  “Yes, it’s hard.”

  “Can I fit it between my legs?” Now the whole room can’t stop laughing. She’s playing my innuendo game like a champ, and stealing the show all at the same time.”

  “Yes, you can fit it between your legs.”

  “Is it battery operated?”

  “Yup,” I hit the button again and it barks, making the box move.

  “Does it vibrate?”

  “Yes,” I answer.

  “Will it make me wet?”

  “Um no,” suddenly I realize my parents are in the room and staring at us like we’ve both gone bat shit crazy.

  “Will it give me pleasure?”

  “Ummmm, yes?” I answer. My face is beat red and my neck is flaring up like it’s on fire.

  “Can I use it with one hand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will it take care of my needs?”

  “Maybe?” I’m ten seconds away from telling her to open the damn box. Between the laughing party goers and my instant embarrassment from a joke going far too well, I’m ready to crawl back into the hole I’ve dug for myself.

  “Is it a remote controlled robot dog?” Everything stops. The jokes, the guessing, and when I look up at her, she’s laughing. “It is. Isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” I tell her.

  She rips open the box and smiles. “It’s not what I wanted, but close. Good job, Max. I plan on putting this puppy to good use. We’re gonna spend lots of alone time in my bedroom.”

  She winks at me and I’m done. I stagger back into a chair, causing everyone in the room to laugh.

  “Nice try, Maxwell, but it’s going to take more than Twenty Questions for me to lose this bet.”

  “What bet?” Greta asks.

  “One I can’t talk about or I’ll lose,” I answer, shooting Breezy an angry glare.

  “Yup, we can’t talk about it. It’s part of the stakes.”

  “Just call it peanut butter cups, that’s what Breezy does.” Maggie exclaims.

  “Peanut butter cups?” My mother asks.

  “Peanut butter cups, is a code word for sex. They can’t talk about it or participate in it,” Maggie tells everyone. “If he wins, he gets to kiss her. If she wins, she gets a puppy.” I need to remind myself to yell at Maggie later.

  “Well, I’m happy to hear that. My son’s a little too promiscuous for my taste anyways.”

  “Moooom,” I screech.

  “What? Max, it’s a fact that when you dip your little wick in between every pair of open legs that spreads for you. You
’re a man-whore. Worse, you’re probably going to be a disease-infested man-whore. Slowing down your pursuit of female vaginas is probably a good thing—not to mention more sanitary.”

  THIS. IS. NOT. HAPPENING!

  “Okay, mom you can stop now.”

  Breezy is laughing hysterically, so is everyone else in the room. The only one not laughing is me.

  “Dad, could you help me out here?”

  My dad who usually sides with me, smiles over at me and says, “Sorry Son, your mother has a point. I’ve told you numerous times to wrap that tally whacker of yours. Your dick has seen so much pussy it’s practically part pussy itself. You need to slow it down, Son. Find that one pussy that means the world to you and just live in it. If you continue to pussy jump you’re going to get a disease, or knock someone up; then where will you be? Nobody is going to want to sleep with a disease-infested baby daddy.” Both of my parents chuckle. I know they’re just fucking with me, but I can’t handle the interesting looks I’m getting from every guest in the room.

  “I don’t have a disease. I use condoms every single time, and seriously, this conversation needs to stop, now.”

  “We’re just looking out for your penis, Son. It’s a family investment. It’s up to your dick to continue our family name,” my dad laughs. Now we’re talking about dicks and babies?

  No more. I’m done.

  “Okay, everyone needs to get outta here. This is so not happening right now. I cannot handle my parents talking about this. I think it’s time everyone leaves.”

  “What’s the matter, Max? Can’t handle your own game?” Breezy asks smugly. “We haven’t even had my birthday cake yet.”

  Fuck, the cake. I almost forgot about it.

  “Fine, we can eat cake. Then everyone leaves. Especially you two!” I yell, pointing at my parents.

  They both chuckle.

  “Max, it’s been forever since we’ve had a party like this. Stop being rude and such a big baby. Suck it up. It’s my birthday and I want Mom and Dad to be here.” I love how Breezy says mom and dad. It almost makes me feel like we’re a couple.

  “That’s right, son. You know we aren’t serious. Simmer down,” My mother says.

  “It’s kinda hard to simmer down when your parents start talking about protecting your penis for the sake of the family blood line. It’s embarrassing, not to mention wrong on all accounts.”

  “We’re old, Son, not dead,” My father comments. “We just want you to be safe, that’s all.”

  “Fine, I’ll be safe, as long as you promise never to talk like that ever again.”

  “Oh, Max, we could never promise that,” my mom says with an evil smile. “Lighten up. It’s a party; you’re supposed to be having fun.”

  Fun went out the window the moment my mom and dad started talking about sex. When did this party become the Mom and Dad Show? I wish I could change the channel . . . now.

  After five hours, everyone finally leaves. It’s just me and Breezy once again. It’s the way I like it—quiet and only the two of us. There wasn’t any more talk of my sexual exploitations. I’m not sure I could’ve sat through anymore of that conversation anyway. It was beyond embarrassing. Breezy of course loved every minute of it.

  “So your parents never gave you the talk, huh?” she asks, picking up a party streamer.

  “Obviously not,” I mumble, scooping down to pick up a piece of cake threatening to stain the carpet.

  “Max, thank you for today; it was fun.”

  “Breezy, you know your birthday is one of my favorite days of the year. I love making you smile.”

  “You definitely did, but I have to ask, are you ever going to get me a real dog?” She asks, staring at Binx, the robot dog. That’s what she decided to name it. At least it’s not Snookums.

  “Not unless you win this bet.”

  “Oh, I’m so gonna win.”

  “Did you know I almost invited Orlando tonight?”

  She looks up at me in shock. “Why would you do a silly thing like that?”

  “I thought you two were still friends,” I tell her.

  “No way, he’s married with kids. I ran into him once on a lunch break. He told me all about his new wife and their five kids. He was trying to rub it in my face that we weren’t together, and he was happy.”

  “He has seven kids now.”

  “Seven? Holy crap is his wife’s vagina a carousel? It has to be with the amount of kids it keeps spitting out,” she says laughing. “I only want two kids—one boy and one girl. That way I can spoil them, and it won’t be a big deal to the pocketbook.”

  “You’ll still spoil them even if you have more than two kids. I want three: two boys and one girl.”

  “Why three?”

  “I want a baby girl I can dote on, and two boys to carry on my family name.” I smile at her. Little does she know that my brain is running with thoughts of knocking her up and making her my wife.

  Well, you were definitely the talk of all the girls tonight. I’m pretty sure if Sheena, Tawanya, and Monique weren’t married, they would’ve been all over your sexy ass tonight.” She admires the tight white t-shirt I have on and black slacks. Every muscle on my body is perfectly accentuated. Just the heat of her stare tells me she wants me.

  “Why, Breezy, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were hitting on me.” I flutter my eyelashes and say in a perfect southern accent, “Be still my heart and call me Alfalfa, if it’s true.”

  “You’re weird. I can admire a hot body when it’s standing in front of me. It’s my birthday for god’s sake.”

  “Speaking of which, I can’t believe you’re older than me,” I groan.

  “By two months. Big deal,” she retorts.

  “It is a big deal. Did you know if you and I ever dated you would be considered a cougar?”

  “You’re officially a dork. I am not a cougar if I date you. I’m only two months older than you.”

  “We’d have to come up with some kind of theme song for you. She’s on the prowl; she likes them young; her pussy’s getting old so bring on the tong . . .” she covers my mouth.

  “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop right now.”

  “But I didn’t even get to the best part . . . she’s a cougar . . . C. O. U. G. A. RRRRR.” I growl the last part like a big cat and smile.

  “Dork. A big fat dork. That’s what I live with.” She throws up her hands and groans.

  I grab her hand and pull her into me. Her boobs hit my chest and suddenly her breathing increases, as I stare directly into her eyes. I dip down and bring my face so close to hers that I can feel her breath.

  “I. Am. So. Not. Fat,” I whisper. Then I take her hand and put it under my shirt, letting her feel every abdominal muscle of my stomach. Through her palm, I swear I can feel her heart race. She lightly begins stroking my stomach, and I instantly get hard.

  “Happy Birthday, Breezy,” I murmur, my lips only a millimeter away from hers. It takes everything I have not to claim her pout right there. She leans forward. For a single second, our skin makes contact through a brief brush of lips. I pull away. I have to. Otherwise, I’m going to straight up devour her—right here—right now.

  “Goodnight, Max,” she says breathlessly.

  “Goodnight, Breezy.”

  With that, I let her go and return to my room. Screw the rules. I know she won’t catch me, so I do what any other self-respecting guy with a boner the size of New Orleans would do . . . I give my dick the best hand job I’ve ever given him in my life.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Breezy

  This is fool proof to get Max to cave to my demands. After the melon debacle and the embarrassing lingerie modeling, this plan is definitely going to make him say the word “peanut butter cups” and lose the bet. Max isn’t back from his hang out with Tony, so I make sure to get everything right before he gets here. He’s not the only one that can be naked in the kitchen. Okay, so I’m not brave enough to be f
ully naked with Max. I do have on a thong and a black and white apron, but really, an apron and thong leave nothing to the imagination. My assets are hanging out. If it wasn’t for the heater being on, my butt would be called an assicle by now.

  As I’m bending over the stove to get my buns from the oven, Max comes walking through the door.

  “Breezy, I’m . . . ho . . . holy butt cheeks.”

  I feel my face warming up, and a smile sliding across my face. I stand up holding the sticky buns and grin at him.

  “Hey, Max, I was wondering if you could help me handle my buns. They need some white coating.”

  “Excuse me?” He’s wearing a white v neck t-shirt, but for some reason, he’s pulling on it like it’s a turtle neck.

  “My buns, they need some white sticky coating,” I giggle.

  I’m really starting to enjoy the innuendo game.

  “You’re fucking with me, right?”

  “No, I’m serious. Will you help me coat my buns?”

  He blanches. “Maybe you should go put some clothes on.”

  “Why? I’m not naked.”

  “You might as well be. You can’t stand in the kitchen with your ass cheeks flashing me like that with no bra on. It’s just not right.”

  “I’m covered. See the apron fully covers my fun bags.” I bend over, showing him the hint of cleavage popping out the top. “So will you help me frost my buns?”

  “I don’t know. This seems like a trick.”

  “No trick,” I pick up a spoon coated in powder sugar glaze, and bring it to my lips, moaning as the sweetness slides down my throat. “It’s so thick and milky, and I just love the taste.”

  “You’re evil.”

  “Want to try it?” I ask innocently.

  He gulps, “Yes.”

  He comes around the corner and stops when I turn away from him to grab another bowl of icing. My ass is right there, and as I bend down for the bowl that I purposely left on the floor, I hear him clear his throat. Next thing I know, he’s standing right behind me and the bulge I feel against my ass cheek is a clear sign that I’m winning this bet. As I stand up to face him, my heart races. He’s got a wild look in his eyes, and his breathing is matching my heartbeat—fast, erratic, and shaking his whole body.