Innuendos (It Had 2 B U Book 1) (16 page)

“Fucking monkey suck nuts, you’re naked!” She screeches covering her eyes.

“How was your day, Dear?” I ask ignoring her.

She peeks through the slats in her fingers. “Put some clothes on. We don’t live in a nudist colony, you exhibitionist!” She’s still yelling, which makes my smile spread.

“I made spaghetti, your favorite.”

“Put some pants on!”

I’m entirely too turned on by her ordering me around like this, and I feel my dick getting hard. Her expression is priceless.

“Fuck, its rising. It’s practically waving at me.”

She’s still peeking through her fingers. It’s like when there’s an accident on the freeway. You don’t want to look, but feel compelled to when you pass by. That’s Breezy right now—she’s totally rubbernecking my dick.

“I was wondering if you could taste my balls for me.”

Oh my god, I could die right now
. It’s killing me that I can’t laugh.

Her mouth drops. “I am soooo
not
sucking on your balls.”

“I need a taster. I’m wondering if they’re too salty.”

Focus Max. Do not laugh.

“I’m not tasting your balls, salty or otherwise.” Her eyes drop to my nut sack, and I see her briefly lick her lips.

This is so working.

I bend down in front the oven, making sure that I angle my ass so it’s right in her face. The fact that she’s still standing here in the kitchen while I’m naked with a hard on, is quite possibly the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced in my life.
I’m so winning this bet.

I pull out the sheet of handmade meatballs and put them on the stove. Carefully, I pry one off the cookie sheet and hold it out to her. “But I thought you loved my meatballs?”

“You were talking about meatballs?” She asks, completely flabbergasted.

“Of course. What did you think I was talking about?”

Now I’m grinning like an idiot and choking back my giggles.

“You asshole! You’re trying to win the bet, aren’t you? You’re trying to get me to talk about . . . peanut butter cups!”

“Peanut butter cups?” I question.

“You know what I mean. If I say the word, I lose. I’m not falling for it. You’re not going to win this bet, Max. Being naked with salty balls will not work on me.”

She grabs the meatball from me and puts it in her mouth. “Mmmm, Max. Your balls taste so good in my mouth.”

She’s erotically chewing my meat like a fucking porn star. All we need is some cheesy music playing in the background, some more moaning, and I could sell this shit to the highest bidder!

“I just want to lick them, tease them with my tongue, and then suck on them until they explode in my mouth.”

If she thought my dick was waving at her before, she’s crazy. He’s practically flagging her down like one of those guys on an airport runway. Fuck! I’m groaning. This plan of mine is backfiring fast.

“I think you like watching me suck on your balls. I think you’re enjoying it a little too much.”

She smiles and briefly looks at my dick again. That’s right Breezy. He’s full on saluting you and standing up for your attention right now.

“Well, a man does love watching a woman enjoy his meat.” I cross my arms, making my forearm muscles pop out at her.

She looks at my chest, then at my arms, and sighs loud enough that I can hear her. When she realizes what she did was audible, her cheeks turn pink. “Are you going to put some pants on?”

“Why? Am I making you uncomfortably horny?”

“No, I’m lobbying for your dick’s protection. You’re about ten seconds away from grilling your wiener on our stove.”

I look down. Holy fuck! My erection is so large it’s almost kissing the burner of the stove, which just so happens to be boiling a fresh pot of spaghetti noodles. If dicks could sweat, mine is probably perspiring like a fat kid on roller skates.

I jump back six inches.

Breezy laughs, “It’s like a vibrating diving board when you jump.”

“Are you making jokes about my penis?” This foolproof plan is not going how I pictured. I expected her to jump on my penis and for us to be making out right now. Instead, I’m like the Titanic—sinking fast, and a victim to the massive iceberg that just killed my erection.

“Oh Max, I would never joke about your penis. I know the size alone already gives you a complex.”

“I think I’m going to go put on some pants.” I sulk past her as she laughs hysterically.

“Remember when you don’t play fair, I don’t play fair, Max.”

“I asked you to taste my balls. You insulted my penis size. Big difference, Breezy,” my voice trembles a bit.
What happened to having some fun before dinner?

“Aww, Max, if it’s any consolation, your balls tasted really good.” She’s laughing again.

Yup, this shit definitely backfired.
It’s Time for plan B—whatever that is.

Plan B started immediately the next morning while Breezy was in the shower. Last night we shared a great meal together. I ended up wearing pants, and there was still a lot of talk about my balls—the meaty ones in my spaghetti. Breezy obviously thinks that last night was my only ploy to win this bet. I will get her to talk about sex even if it kills me.

One thing you should know about my roommate, she’s a little OCD about her stuff. Her closet is color coordinated: her shoes have a rack and never touch the floor unless they are on her feet. Her drawers are the neatest in the world. Don’t believe me? She folds her underwear into triangles for god’s sake.

My goal is to get her talking about sex, so in order to do that, I have to be strategic in my plans of attack. That’s when I got the bright idea for the panty game. Now I’m sitting here smiling, as I wait for her to get out of the bathroom and discover my dastardly deed.

Ten minutes later it happens.

“Max!” she screams.

I’m sitting at our kitchen table reading the newspaper and sipping on some coffee when she comes storming into the room in only a robe.
Hello hard on.

“Did you touch my panties?” she accuses.

“Excuse me?” I ask innocently.

“My panties, did you touch them?” This couldn’t go more perfectly than if she were a dummy and I was a ventriloquist.

“I’m still not following. I usually ask permission before fondling undergarments.”

“You’re incorrigible; I’m serious, Max. Did you touch my panties?”

“How were your panties touched?”

“You know exactly how they were touched, because you were the one touching them.”

“It would help if you were a little more specific on how I touched your panties.”

“You shoved them to the side.”

“I did?” It’s so hard not to laugh.

“You shoved them to the side and stuck your penis in between them.”

Now I’m giggling. This is going perfectly. “I think I would remember if I shoved your panties to the side and stuck my penis anywhere.”

Obviously she’s too sleepy to get the hilarity of this conversation, because her face is angry red. She stomps back into her room and comes back out with the bright green dildo I left in her drawer.

“See, I have your penis in my hands! You stuck it my drawer after shoving my panties to the side.” Now I’m laughing hysterically.

“What?” she asks angrily.

“You have no idea how hot this conversation is; do you?”

Finally, she wakes up. “You just won’t stop, will you?”

“Stop what?”

“Trying to win the bet. You’ve gone to the dark side, Max. This bet has made you officially lose it.”

“How so?”

“You’ve resorted to touching my panties.”

I grin. “Well, if I have to resort to something, touching panties is at the top of my list.”

“When will you quit? What should I expect next?”

“Have you checked said panties yet?” Here comes the real blow up.

“You didn’t!” She runs back into her room and screams at the top of her lungs. “Holy fuck, you cut up my crotch!”

Chapter Seventeen

Breezy

This means war! You don’t touch a woman’s underwear and live to tell the tale. Well, okay, some men get to live through it, but not Max. He’s going down! He will pay for making me a crotchless hoochie.

My poor vagina has no protection now. I was going to wear a skirt today. Fuck that shit! All I need is one Marilyn Monroe type breeze and my vajayjay will be waving like Miss America on a god damn float.
Hello crowd! Why yes, that’s my pussy! You want to take a picture, sure! Let me open my legs a little wider for you.
I miss the protection of my satin and cotton. Shit, I’d take a thong right now if Max hadn’t cut those up, too, made a nice piece of abstract art out of them, and hung them from my lamp like some fucked up barrel of monkeys.

If I wasn’t already late for work, I’d be paying him back right now, but my payback will have to wait until later—when he least expects it.

Ten minutes later, I’m stumbling out of my room in an outfit that fully covers my crotch. Max is sitting where I left him, giggling like an idiot.

“I can’t believe you cut up my underwear. What are you, a third grader?”

“Seventh. A third grader wouldn’t touch your panties,” he replies smugly.

“You owe me some new underwear.”

He hands me a
Victoria’s Secret
card.

“What’s this?”

“Go shopping; I feel bad. Although, I have to admit the conversation because of it was quite hilarious.”

“You’re evil. I’m getting you back for this. I hope you know that.”

“I could do this all day, Breezy. I have will power. I don’t need to talk about it.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re too busy thinking about it.”

“There were no rules put in place about thinking about it.” He gets up from his chair and invades my face. His cologne is so magnetizing; I’m instantly leaning into him so I can get a better sniff
. I swear my nose is like a dog.

“I want my kiss. I’m not going to stop until I get it,” he tells me

His mouth is a millimeter away from mine. His minty breath batters my lips. I can’t believe I’m this close to kissing Max—again! Why is the thought of kissing him suddenly sound like the best idea ever? And why am I so wet?

“Oh my fucking god!” I screech, realizing exactly what happened.

“What?” Max asks, backing a step back from me.

I smack his arm as hard as I can.

“Ouch, what was that for?”

“Your almost kiss, just made me wet, you asshole!”

He’s fucking laughing at me. “So what?” he questions.

“Hello! Crotchless underwear! My nice slacks are now covered in traitorous Max juices. Stop trying to tempt me.”

“No,” he states firmly.

“Why not?” I whine.

“Maybe I like you wet.”

He winks at me, abruptly turns, and goes to leave the house. I’m standing there completely mind-fucked and drizzly. It takes everything I have to come up with something witty to say back.

“Hey, Max,” I yell after him.

“Yeah?” He’s grinning too much. I hate that he finds this shit so funny. Why did I even agree to this damn bet anyways? Oh yeah, because I want a damn puppy.

“Stay away from my drawers. From now on, I’m the only one who can stick my hand in them.”

He’s laughing again. Shit! That sounded sexual, too; didn’t it? Fuck me. I really suck at this game.

I realized that in order to win this bet, I’m going to have to call in some reinforcements. Since I don’t have very many friends, I’m going to have to rely on my woman’s instinct and call someone that has more loyalty to my enemy than she does me. I hope she will help me.

On my break I call her.

“Breeanne?” Maggie asks when she picks up.

“Hey, Maggie.”

“What’s up? You caught me right in the middle of making a cake. I’m up to my elbows in flour. Though, I blame that on Dashawn and his grabby hands.” I hear a smack on the other side of the line and manly giggling.