Pucks & Penalties: Pucked Series Deleted Scenes and Outtakes Version 2.0 (The Pucked Series)

by Helena Hunting

  You’ll be picked up at eleven for an afternoon of pampering. Maybe, if it’s not too much trouble, you can do that crystal thing like you did a while back? I really enjoyed that. A lot. Like so fucking much. I promise I’ll make it worth your while if you do. I promise to do that anyway, but the sparkle makes it extra special.

  I thought about making a dinner reservation, but then there’s the whole sharing thing, and someone other than me having your attention, and you know how I feel about that, so I’m ordering in for us. I hope you’re okay with that. All you have to do is show up. I bought you some new lingerie for tonight, too. And a few other fun things I can’t wait to show you.

  The Super MC wrote you a little poem, just something for you to think about while you’re being pampered today.

  Roses are red, Violets are blue,

  So are my balls when I don’t get to see you.

  This Valentine’s Day is your first as my wife,

  The beaver with whom I’ll spend the rest of my life.

  To demonstrate my ever-growing love for you,

  I wanted to try a little something new.

  I know you’re scared to let me in your Area 51,

  But I think we both know we’re well beyond Alex’s thumb.

  I had nothing to do with that poem. At all. My dick channeled that. In no way support or endorse Super MC’s message.

  I love you.

  See you tonight.

  I can feel you clenching from here.

  XO Alex (Mr. Waters) and the Super MC

  Weiner Warmers™

  A Holiday Outtake

  WHY DID I write this? Last year our daughter got into corking, and well . . . I had some ideas that were not appropriate and decided to channel them into a super ridiculous outtake. The ™ is not real, but I thought it was hilarious.

  “DO I EVEN want to know what this is about?” Charlene plunks down on the couch and motions to the spread before me.

  “I’m trying to make those fingerless hand warmer things, but I suck at crocheting and knitting, so I thought this might work better.” I hold up the corker. “I’m having issues with sizing and making a thumb hole, though.” This is way harder than I expected it to be and I told the nice people at the soup kitchen that I’d have a dozen pairs of fingerless gloves for the holidays. So far all I have are a bunch of tubes in various sizes.

  Charlene picks up a red tube and slides it on her finger. “Not sure you’re having much success with the fingerless gloves.”

  “I’m sure there’s a way to make this work.”

  “Vi, this is a finger warmer. No adult human could get this over their wrist.” She gives me her super creepy wide-eyed doe look and says, in a horrible voice while wiggling her finger, “Redrum, redrum.”

  “Don’t be an asshole!” I try to snatch it from her finger, but she’s fast and more coordinated than I am, hiding it behind her back.

  I pick up another tube. This one is bigger. I tried to get creative, it’s red and black, and I made an attempt at putting Alex’s number on it. It didn’t work that well. It sort of looks like a four, but it also sort of looks like two stick people getting it on doggy style. Turns out, corking and sewing aren’t quite the same thing. All I have to worry about with a sewing machine is not stitching up my finger. It’s pretty foolproof since there’s a guard and all. Corking doesn’t allow for much inventiveness from what I’ve learned so far. Which admittedly isn’t much.

  I manage to get my hand through the tube. It’s snug, but I still have no idea how I’m going to make a thumbhole without completely ruining it. “Oh my God! I have the best idea!”

  “Let this be your one reminder that whenever you say that, something embarrassing usually happens.”

  “Whatever, Char. You’re used to it.”

  She shrugs, because it’s true.

  “I’ll be right back!” I leap off the couch, slam my shin into the coffee table, and fall on the floor, holding onto my knee while I rock back and forth, moaning in pain for a good minute—at least it feels that long. Charlene just sits on the couch, muttering Redrum, wiggling her finger at me. Eventually, I limp my way upstairs and return a few minutes later with my collection of fake penises.

  Charlene raises an eyebrow. “You know I love you, Vi, but Darren doesn’t like to share and I really like dick.”

  “Ha-ha. Alex doesn’t like to share either, and I obviously like dick, too.” I motion to the pile of silicone penises. “Oh! I need one more thing!” I rush back up to my office, returning with the most important penis of all: the Play-Doh replica I made of Super MC the weekend Alex proposed to me. It also happened to be the weekend I almost decapitated his dick, but we don’t talk about that, and I’ve learned a lot about penis costumes since then.

  “I thought Alex made you get rid of the dick sculpture. Wasn’t it starting to mold?” Charlene’s nose wrinkles.

  “I varnished it so it’s fine now. And I keep it in my office so he doesn’t throw it out.” Sometimes, when Alex is away and I miss him, I just hold onto it or rub it. It’s soothing. Also, it’s like having a mannequin for when I make Super MC costumes.

  I take the corked tube off my wrist and shimmy it over the head of the Super MC sculpture. It takes some work to get it on, and one of the googly eyes I glued onto the head pops off in the process, but once it’s past the mushroom top, it slides on nicely.

  I adjust it so only the head peeks out and Vanna White my new invention. “It’s a Weiner Warmer™!”

  Charlene picks up a slim vibrator and slides one of the tubes over it. “A dick cozy.”

  It’s at this moment that the house alarm dings, signaling that my husband is home. “Oh shit!” I cradle my now one-eyed Super MC against my chest. Alex obviously doesn’t know I haven’t gotten rid of it. I can’t hide it upstairs because he’s coming down the hall, so I do the next best thing and tuck it carefully behind the couch cushion so as not to break it. The Play-Doh is tough, but still, I take no chances with my Super MC sculpture.

  “Hey, baby, I’m home!” Alex calls out at the same moment he rounds the corner. Behind him is Darren, Charlene’s boyfriend.

  I was so busy worrying about the safety of the Super MC sculpture that I failed to consider the coffee table covered in my modest collection of pretend penises. Oh, and a butt plug, but I grabbed that by accident.

  Alex’s smile turns into a confused frown as he processes the scene before him. The table and couch are littered with plastic friends and yarn corked tubes in various colors and sizes. Charlene is currently holding my pink vibrator, a lime green tube covering its middle. It’s a good color combination, actually. Purple would work, too.

  “Uh, what the fuck is going on here?” Alex asks.

  “I was trying to make fingerless gloves,” I explain.

  “That really doesn’t explain why your entire vibrator collection is on our living room table.”

  “Huh.” Darren’s eyebrows lift.

  Alex looks over his shoulder, frown still in place. “What?”

  Darren shrugs and rubs his bottom lip. It looks like he’s trying not to smile. He’s also not looking at Alex. His gaze is fixed on Charlene. “Nothing.”

  Alex crosses his arms over his chest, cocks a brow, and waits for an explanation.

  “I was corking.”

  He looks back and forth between Charlene and me, his expression incredulous.

  I roll my eyes, pick up a corker, and throw it at him. Of course, he catches it no problem. If he’d thrown it at me, it likely would’ve hit me in the face. “Corking, c-o-r-k-i-n-g, not porking, you pervert. I thought I could make those fingerless glove things for the soup kitchen, but I never learned how to knit or crochet, so I went with corking, but all I can do is make tubes, and I can’t figure out how to add a thumbhole, so I figured I could repurpose them—”

  “—and turn them into dick cosies.” Charlene holds up the pink vibrator wearing the green sheath as an example.

  “Weiner Warmers�
�� sounds better,” I argue.

  “Whatever you call them, we’re not bringing them to the soup kitchen, Vi.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “Because there will be children and families there. We can’t hand out dick warmers.”

  Dammit. He has a point. I throw my hands up in the air. “Well, I have to bring something and I’m running out of time. I could bake cookies or something.”

  “No!” all three of them yell at the same time.

  “I’m getting better at baking,” I mutter. I’m really not. I always burn them. Even with a convection oven.

  “We can just buy gloves, ” Alex says.

  “Well, what am I going to do with all of these?” I flop back against the couch and gesture to the pile of Weiner Warmers™.

  “I’ll take one off your hands.” Darren gives me one of his rare smiles. It’s a disarming expression on him, likely because I don’t see it often and it makes him look . . . almost sweet when he does. He picks up one of the girthier ones, slides three fingers into it, and scissors them around to test for stretchiness. Apparently satisfied, he shoves it into his pocket.

  “Oh! I could give one to all the guys on the team! Jock strap cosies!”

  “You are not giving all the guys on the team dick cosies.”

  “I’m not offering to put it on for them, Alex. I’m offering them something to protect their dicks from jock strap chafing. It’s thoughtful.”

  “Still, no.” His arms are crossed over his chest, forearms tight. Alex is a little territorial. Mostly I don’t mind because he’s also super sensitive and considerate.

  I can also sort of see why he wouldn’t want me to give his teammates Weiner Warmers™. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to do it anyway. At least with our close friends. Because when the hell have I ever been appropriate?

  Fifteen minutes later, Alex is whispering into my ear to put all my fake penises away. Darren and Charlene are still here and we’ve ordered in from my favorite Italian restaurant, the one that uses lactose-free cheese on their chicken parm.

  “They’re my Weiner Warmer mannequins.”

  He gives me a look. It’s not a happy one. I’m pretty sure this is because Darren is here, getting a look at all the things I put in my beaver when Alex isn’t around to feed me his wood. And the one I let him put in my Area 51 on special occasions when he convinces me having a million orgasms in a row is a good idea.

  “Fine, I’ll put them away,” I grumble.

  I gather them all up and take them upstairs, dumping them onto the bed. I’ll worry about putting them away later. Except the Area 51 invader. All it takes is a glimpse of that thing and Super MC tries to stage a revolt and burst through Alex’s pants, so I usually tuck it in the back of the drawer. Maybe that’s why he was so intent on making me put them all away.

  After dinner we play an exciting game of Scrabble. I end up with the j and the z at the same time. This would be terrible, except I also have one of the blank tiles and an i. I’m forced to put down three low point words, cutting my lead significantly. My patience pays off, though, because a triple word score comes up. I’m bouncing in my seat when I get to put the word jizzy down on the board.

  Alex purses his lips. “Jizzy isn’t a word, Violet.”

  He gets all English major uppity when we play Scrabble. It’s entertaining.

  “It’s in the Urban Dictionary,” I argue. I don’t honestly know if this is true or not, but I have to assume it is.

  His expression is smug, lip curling in a sneer as he challenges me. “Use it in context then.”

  “Charlene’s chest gets all jizzy when Darren gives her a pearl necklace.”

  Darren turns his head and coughs while Charlene uses her middle finger to adjust the pearls around her neck.

  I get sixty-nine points for that word, which is awesome for so many reasons. I also win the game. Alex comes in last, only because his priority is to make great words even if he has to sacrifice points. It’s terrible strategy, but whatever.

  Charlene and Darren—who have been giving each other looks all night, as they do—leave around ten. The Weiner Warmers™ are still in a pile on the coffee table.

  “I wonder if I could get some fleece-lined spandex and make fingerless gloves out of that.” I nab one of the Weiner Warmers™ and slip it on my finger as I flop down on the couch. It’s too big, so I have to shove another finger in there to make it snug.

  “We’ll just go out and buy some.” Alex sits down beside me, eyes on my fingers as I try to get a third one into the tube. It’s a tight fit, but I manage to do it.

  “That defeats the purpose. I wanted to make something, not buy something. The Weiner Warmers™ would’ve been awesome if there wasn’t the whole family aspect.”

  Alex picks up one of the narrow tubes and tries to slide it on his thick finger.

  “You should use it for its intended purpose.”

  Alex gives me a dark look. “My dick won’t fit in this, Vi.”

  It barely fits on one finger. Of course, it wouldn’t fit Super MC. “Let me see if I can find one that will.” I search the pile of tubes, looking for one that will fit Alex’s monster cock when it’s soft. He’s both a show-er and a grower. When he’s not hard, his dick isn’t terrifyingly large, but then it starts to inflate. It doesn’t scare me like it used to when we had our one-night stand that turned into an actual relationship.

  The one that will fit with absolute certainty is still on my Super MC Play-Doh sculpture, but that’s meant for him when he’s hard. I select three different sizes, then push the coffee table out of the way and edge between his legs.

  His grin is all smug excitement as I unbuckle his belt, pop the button, and pull down the zipper. He lifts his hips and pushes both his boxers and jeans down until his cock pops free and thwacks him in the stomach.

  “You already have a semi.”

  “You’re kneeling between my legs and you’re about to put your hands on my cock. Of course, I have a semi.”

  He makes a move to grip his still somewhat floppy erection and I swat at his hand. “Don’t do that! I want to see if I have to make size adjustments, and I can’t do that if you’re already fully hard.”

  Alex quirks a brow, but drops his hands to his thighs. “Have at it then, baby.”

  The smallest of the three Alex-sized Weiner Warmers™ definitely won’t fit right now, so I go with the next one up. His erection jerks when I place the tube over the head and start sliding it on. “Isn’t it soft?”

  “Yeah, super soft.” Alex nods.

  “I used the same kind of yarn Sunny likes for baby blankets.”

  “Oh yeah?” Alex licks his lips, fingers twitching on his thighs while I work my magic.

  It’s not super easy to get it over the head since it’s the thickest part, but once it’s past the ridge, it slides down real nice. I’d say Alex is about three quarters of the way hard by the time I’m done adjusting. It’s a little long, and the head of his cock just peeks out, so I fold the top down so it looks like his snuffie is wearing a turtleneck.

  “Doesn’t he look awesome?” I smile up at Alex. “Oh! Hold on!” I use his knees to push to a stand.

  “Where are you going?” His voice is a little high and pitchy.

  “I’ll be right back!” I call over my shoulder as I dash out of the room.

  I find my baking supplies, along with some clear and black icing, and rush back to where Alex is still sitting. Super MC stands tall and proud, wearing a Weiner Warmer. This one is black with a stripe of gray around the neckline. I kind of want to put a tie on him so he looks like he’s wearing a suit.

  When he sees what’s in my hands, his eyes narrow. “What the hell is that for?”

  “I want to put eyes on him.”

  “No.”

  “Come on, Alex.” I motion Super MC, who looks like he’s wearing a super cozy sweater. “He’s adorable. Just let me put a face on him and take a picture, please?”

  Al
ex’s expression changes from unimpressed to downright horrified. “My dick is not fucking adorable.” He makes a jabby motion with his hand toward his crotch. “He’s formidable.”

  “I could give him an angry face if you want.”

  “No face.”

  Now Alex says this, but he’s not moving from his spot on the couch, and he hasn’t attempted to remove the Weiner Warmer, so I think I’ll probably be able to get what I want as long as I promise him something really good in return.

  “If you let me put a face on him, I’ll lick it off.” I sink down between his knees.

  His eyes light up just a bit, but his brow quickly returns to its furrowed state. “I want you to suck it off.”

  “Yay!” I wrap my hand around his covered penis and give the tip an affectionate kiss before I rub it on my cheek. “This is going to be awesome.”

  Alex groans, maybe in agreement, maybe because he’s fully hard and the Weiner Warmer is stretched around the shaft. It might be tricky to get it over the head, but I’m sure it won’t be too much trouble.

  I unpack my penis decorating kit and get to work. I have to blot the top because Alex is already excited and he’s leaking a little. I use the clear icing glue to place the eyes, checking a couple of times to make sure they’re not wonky. Then I use a candy marker to draw on angry eyebrows. I have to blot the tip a few more times, because Alex is clearly excited about the part where I suck the face off and I have to redo the mouth twice because his dick twitches when I use the black icing to drawn a scowl, but when I’m done, his penis looks adorably formidable.

  “Tada!” I do jazz hands and almost smack myself in the face. “Isn’t he awesome?”

  “Sure is. Now you can suck him off.”

  It doesn’t escape me that Alex sometimes refers to his own penis as if it’s another person. “I just need a picture first.”

  “Oh fuck no. You’re not taking a picture.”

  “But you said I could.”

  “No. I said you could put a face on him and suck it off. At no point did I agree to photographic evidence.”