The Big O (The Virgin Diaries)

by Bellus, HJ

  Dad chuckles before he responds, “The girls likes to fish.”

  I dump a fair share of vodka into the red plastic cup, fill the rest of it up with sweet tea, and squeeze lemon in it before handing it to Oren.

  “What were you guys doing across the stream?” Scout asks with a smirk on her face.

  “Swimming,” I reply.

  “Just swimming,” she counters.

  Oren chokes on his drink.

  “Yes, just swimming, asshole,” I grit out.

  17

  Did You Hear That?

  Farkle around the campfire with everyone toasted and having a ball. I’m curled up in Oren’s lap snuggled in to keep warm. Once the sun goes down in the mountains, it gets right down titty cold.

  “I’m ready for s’mores,” Scout declares and throws her dice on the table.

  “Just because you are losing, loser,” I taunt.

  “Cum guzzler,” she growls.

  “Girls, enough,” her mother scolds.

  “She’s not one of those, sir,” Oren says to my dad.

  The situation went from relaxing to beyond awkward.

  “I’ll help Scout.” I bounce up from Oren’s lap and head for the trailer.

  “What in the hell is your problem?” I ask, slamming the door.

  “I miss Taylor.” Scout busts out into tears. “I loved him.”

  “I know.” I wrap her up in a hug and let her cry. Scout always masks everything, rarely letting her true feelings show and just relies on her witty and smartass humor to get her through life.

  “His new girl is pregnant.”

  “Oh shit. How do you know?”

  “I stalk her Facebook. She’s like five months pregnant, O.”

  “I’m so sorry, honey.” I pet her hair and let my best friend’s tear fall in my lap. There’s not much you can say in a situation like this to make her situation any better.

  “Want to go do s’mores?” I ask her.

  “No, I’m just going to go to bed.” She sits up and wipes the last of the tears away from her welted eyes.

  “C’mon, it’s tradition.”

  “We’ll be here three more damn nights.”

  I snag her nipple between my two fingers. “I’ll twist if you don’t get your ass out there with your best friend and make s’mores.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “I would.” I apply a bit of pressure before she finally gives in.

  Scout and I snuggle up in a lounger together, roasting marshmallows and becoming a sticky mess while the Farkle game comes to an end. Oren pours himself another drink and joins. Scout tries to stand up, but I force her back down in the chair.

  “You girls are doing it all wrong,” Oren says, sipping on his drink.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Here, put a marshmallow on.” He holds out his poker and then surveys the fire before he decides on a place. “See, the secret to s’mores is melting your chocolate.”

  He takes a graham cracker, placing a chocolate square on it and setting it on a rock near the fire. It only takes him moments to have one ready.

  “Here, Scout, see what you think?”

  I watch her devour the s’more.

  “Best ever,” she says, closing her eyes and chewing.

  I glance back to the fire and notice mine on fire. “Shit.”

  I begin whipping it wildly into the air.

  “God dammit, Olivia, I’ve told you since you were a toddler not to do that.”

  I turn to my dad, who has a burnt and smooshed marshmallow in the bill of his hat.

  “Dad, I’m sorry.” I cover my mouth to mask my giggles. “I just react.”

  “Take the stick away from her, Oren,” Dad instructs and it makes me laugh even harder being treated like a four year old.

  “See this scar on my neck.” My dad points to it. “A flying, flaming marshmallow sent into launch by this shit.”

  Oren takes my stick away and hands me a s’more while fighting to hide his amusement. The rest of the group huddles around the fire sharing stories from our past. I stay huddled to Scout and prop my leg up on Oren who’s settled onto a log next to me.

  “Remember the time Scout put the cat in the dryer?” Her dad lets out a hearty howl at the memory.

  “I do. My dad whipped my ass for it and I didn’t even do it.”

  “You got the stool for me to push start, so you were an accomplice.”

  “You two were hell on wheels,” Scout’s mom adds.

  “Feel sorry for the future men in your life.” Dad elbows Oren and squeezes Scout in a hug.

  “You’ll find your Mr. Right.” I hug her tight.

  Oren continues to make s’mores and eats his fair share of them. The dab of smeared chocolate at the corner of his lip tempts me.

  “Shots,” Scouts yells, jumping to her feet. “We need damn shots.”

  She grabs the bottle of vodka and jar of pickles and begins pouring a round of shots.

  “Why?” I groan, joining her at the picnic table.

  “Because all good stories start with shots.” She hands me my two cups. “Oren.”

  “What is this?” He wrinkles his nose.

  “Pickle juice you chase the vodka with,” I reply.

  Scout holds her cup up and we both follow. I peeked in before raising and it’s definitely equivalent to two shots.

  She toasts. “To friends, orgasms, really good sex, and to my vibrator.”

  It’s downright loveable when Oren looks at me for the okay to cheers to Scout’s vibrator. I give him the nod and then we shoot the vodka followed by the pickle juice.

  “My turn.” I pour the shot, being careful not to pour so much vodka in the damn plastic cups and then line up the pickle juice.

  Everyone grabs their cups and raise them up under the moon. “To love, friendship, and summer nights.”

  Oren slaps my ass as he downs the shots. I squeal and then take mine. I lose track of the toasting, shots, and other drinks. All three of us howl at the moon and each other’s jokes. Oren tells Scout the fart story and I elbow the shit out of him.

  “Bedtime before someone falls in the fire,” Oren stands and clearly is the most sober out of all of us.

  “Yes, Officer,” Scout replies.

  “He’s my sexy Occifer.”

  “Move it, girls. You’ve howled at the moon long enough tonight.”

  “Hey Occifer are you going to do an anal cavity search on my O tonight?”

  “Whatsss that?” All of my words slur together.

  “His hand in a rubber glub up your anus.”

  “Goes to bed,” I order her, waving my Solo cup in the direction of her parents’ trailer but somehow pour most of the vodka into the fire. And talk about holy Jesus of fireball.

  “That’s how they make Fireball,” Scout yells.

  “I knows.”

  “Bed now,” Oren growls.

  His speech is very clear and demanding.

  “Or what?” Scout counters.

  “You’s gonna have to handcuff us, Occifer schemxy?”

  In one swoop, he has me over his shoulder, and dragging Scout by the wrist until we reach her parents’ trailer doors. He opens the door and shoves her in.

  “Nice police skills,” I say upside down.

  “Not even my police skills can handle the two of you together.”

  “I’m gonna puke dangling like this.”

  Oren slides me back down his chest.

  “Wrap your legs around my middle.”

  “I want marshmallows. Can we roast more?”

  “No.”

  “Chips. Let’s eat chips.”

  “No.”

  “Cake. Let’s eat cake.”

  “No, we’re going to bed, baby.”

  “I want a hotdog.”

  “Want an elephant?”

  I spring up from resting on his shoulder. “Yes, I want an elephant.”

  His deep laugh vibrates against my chest. “You’re so wasted, Ol
ivia.”

  “I can see twos of you right now.”

  “I bet you can, sweetie.”

  “It’s my palace,” I squeal.

  I hear the zipper going down and then Oren sets me on the ground.

  “Stay in here,” he says in a harsh voice.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to drown out the fire. Olivia, please stay in the tent.”

  “Don’t get eaten by a bear.” I laugh at my own joke. Oren doesn’t laugh, but goes for the fire.

  He has battery-operated lanterns hung in the tent and our sleeping bags laid out. I strip like it’s my day job by trade and snuggle down in his over-sized one. Even sober, I hope he didn’t think I was sleeping in my own bag.

  “Olivia.”

  “Yes, big daddy.”

  “Where in the hell are you?”

  I pop up from under the warmth of the top layer of sleeping bag. “Here.”

  Both of my boobs flop out as I sit up.

  “That’s mine.”

  “Come join me, grumpy pants.”

  Oren peels his pants off, then hoodie.

  “Boxers.”

  “Olivia.”

  “Boxers, now. Body heat so we don’t freeze.”

  Oren takes a few steps towards me and I’m up to tug on them, freeing him.

  “What do we have here?” I smile up at him, going to my knees.

  It seems he’s more than excited to jump in the sleeping bag with me. I wrap my hand around the base of him and squeeze until I hear him groan.

  “Help me.” I stare into his eyes.

  Oren places his hand over the top of mine and begins guiding it from the base of him to the tip, first slow then faster and slowing it back down. He adjusts the grip of his hand as we change speeds.

  “Olivia,” he grunts out. “You are too drunk to be doing this.”

  “I know exactly what I’m doing.” And that’s when my liquid courage kicks in.

  I kiss the tip of his shaft first, then begin swirling my tongue around it before I take him whole into my mouth. Oren’s deep satisfying groan fuels my desire to please him like he’s done to me with his mouth.

  I move faster, taking him deeper and then slowing down just like he did. I pop my mouth off his cock and then catch it between my teeth and suck harder than ever with my hand guiding the way. I feel him grow inside my mouth as he tries to push me away, but I hold onto his thigh, not letting go of him.

  “O…O…Olivia,” he grunts as he releases in my mouth.

  Oren collapses to his knees, kissing my nose then cheeks, and then staring into my eyes.

  “That was fucking mind blowing.”

  “I love you even when I’m drunk.” I whisper on his lips.

  “You are my everything, O.”

  He guides me back down into the sleeping bag and curls me back into his chest.

  “Easy clean up with blow jobs, eh.”

  His deep chuckles are soothing as I’m already on the brink of sleep.

  “Yes, they are.”

  Oren begins talking about work, my eyelids grow heavy, and I try to focus as long as I can, but soon lose the battle, falling fast asleep.

  “I’m so fucking thirsty,” I grumble as I tumble out of the tent into the glaring sunshine. My stomach heaves and the dry gags begin. “Water. I need water.”

  “See you two had a little too much fun last night.” Dad’s perched at the picnic table with his cup of coffee sipping on it.

  Empty vodka and beer bottles are scattered everywhere. I’m going to die.

  “You look like fuck.” I turn to the side to see Scout huddled in an opening surrounded by bushes with a couple gallons of water and a bottle of ibuprofen.

  “Water,” I growl like a rabid animal. “I need water.”

  I fall to the soft dirt and grab a jug, downing it.

  “I fucking hate you. No more shots.” I wipe the water droplets from my mouth.

  “I’m going to die, O, I don’t even remember getting back to the trailer.”

  “Oren led you by the wrist like a fucking toddler.” I laugh my ass off remembering that part.

  She slaps both of her hands over her mouth. “Oh my God, that’s so embarrassing.”

  “You girls want eggs?” I hear Scout’s mom holler.

  “I can’t eat.”

  “You have to, O. It will help.” Scout cups her hands around her mouth. “Yeah, Ma! Over easy, extra grease and heavy on the hot sauce.”

  “I swallowed baby batter last night.”

  I wait for her reaction and it never comes. She only waves and I turn to see Oren standing behind me and I don’t even feel embarrassed or a flush creep up my spine. It may be the hangover or the fact my level butt puckering embarrassments have expired.

  18

  Cherry Pie

  “Don’t tell me how to drive.”

  “You’re speeding and haven’t used your damn signal one damn time.”

  “I’ll pull over. Want me to fucking pull over?”

  “No, superstar, by all means drive it like you stole it so we make it to the damn community picnic on time.”

  A red light comes into view and I slam on the brakes, sending Oren sailing a bit forward; the seatbelt locks and I giggle.

  “Again, would you like to drive, Officer?”

  “Nope, sexy teacher.” He reaches over and kisses the side of my head. “Just slow down.”

  “Don’t tell me how to drive,” I grit out with a fake smile.

  “So, your dad sponsors this?”

  “He’s one of the main businesses that does. It’s an annual thing.”

  “Barbecue, fireworks, beer, you know all the typical shit for the Fourth of July.”

  “And your tiny red shorts and tight-ass flag tank top?”

  “That’s tradition, too; Scout and I always get them at Old Navy.”

  “Olivia, slow down.”

  “Oren, do not tell me how to fucking drive,” I yell each word.

  When drive leaves my mouth the back of the car is lit up with red and blue lights and then the lovely sound of a cop’s siren goes off.

  “Shit.” I hit the steering wheel with my hand and look over to Oren, who crosses his arms over his chest and sends me a sideways look. “Shut up, Oren, just shut up.”

  “I didn’t say a word, Jeff Gordon.”

  I’d never admit it to him, but every single part of my body shivers in nerves, my heart races out of control, and I begin panicking. This will be my fourth speeding ticket and my father will flip his freakin’ lid. Oh, that’s right, I’m still on daddy’s insurance

  “What’s the rush?” I look over to an officer leaning in the window. He looks familiar, but I can’t quite place him.

  “Sorry, Officer, didn’t realize I was speeding.”

  “You were going seventy in a marked fifty-five.”

  “Oh really, that fast?” I feign as much innocence as humanly possible.

  Oren clears his throat, then the officer ducks his head a bit more to see him.

  “Sup, man?” the officer chirps out.

  “Just going to the community shin-dig.”

  “Beats working, eh? Miss patrolling with ya, man.”

  And freakin’ bingo, I place his face. It’s Oren’s old partner, which between the two of them quickly built a reputation around town of being hard asses. Tommy has even given his own grandma a speeding ticket. I have no chance of getting out of this one.

  He quickly looks back to me and in his best police officer voice. You know the one meant to scare the shit out of you and put the fear of God in you, so you never speed again? Clearly has never worked out in my case.

  “License, registration, and insurance.”

  I pluck my license from my wallet and then reach over to the glove box to get the registration and insurance. I make sure to let my boobs bounce on Oren’s knee just trying to convince tough cop to get me out of this. I wiggle my way deeper into the glove box to grab the regi
stration. Letting my girls massage the top of his knee.

  “Got an itch?” Oren asks when I sit up.

  I’m desperate. I even give him the puppy dog eyes, but he sits there with his arms crossed over his chest.

  “I’ll be right back, ma’am. Let me go run these.”

  Once the officer is in his car and out of earshot, I turn to Oren. “Help me. My dad is going to kill me.”

  “I told you to slow your ass down.”

  “Blah, blah, blah…that’s old news. Please?” I whine.

  “I hope you get a ticket. I’d slap you with one.”

  “Butthole.” I whap his shoulder.

  A passing car lays on their horn as they pass and of course it’s fucking Scout who will beat me to the park, tell my dad about the ticket and get Ruby’s famous cherry pie.

  “Stupid cops,” I mumble.

  “Alright, ma’am, you’ll need to have this paid by the end of the month. I’m citing you for speeding. The fine is one hundred ninety dollars and if you’d like to contest here’s the information for that.” He points to each section of the ticket.

  “Yeah, I’m going to really protest it with Mr. Hardass sitting here next to me.”

  “Just doing my job.”

  “Happy Fourth of July,” I reply, trying to be polite.

  “See ya buddy.” He waves to Oren.

  “Take care, man and stay safe tonight.” Waves.

  It’s the first time he’s uncrossed his arms.

  “You are mean,” I blurt out, turning to him.

  “You do know that’s the guy who’s ticketed his own grandma and kindergarten teacher. It didn’t matter if I was sitting here and…”

  “Shut-it, I know you said to slow down, but I even rubbed my boobies on your kneecaps and you didn’t say one word to help me out.”

  I throw the papers back into the glove box.

  “Yes, I did, Olivia.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “I told you to slow your ass down.”

  “That was before…” And then the lightbulb goes off. “You knew he was patrolling out here, didn’t you?”

  “Like I said, I told you to slow down.”

  “My whole life is ruined. Scout’s told my dad by now and snagged Ruby’s famous cherry pie. She only brings one each year and now I won’t get a piece, not even a morsel.”