Chapter Thirty-five
Don
I’m still half-asleep when I feel a soft hand wrap around my cock. I almost always wake up with a hard-on, and this morning is no different. But this time, it seems that Abby is doing something about it.
My eyes open to see her head on my chest with her pretty brown eyes looking up at me.
As she squeezes a little harder, I hiss, “Fuck, baby. That feels so fucking good.”
I try to be quiet, not wanting my mother to hear what we are doing. I look around, trying to listen to where she is in the house.
Abby notices and leans in to whisper, “She’s not here. I got up to go get some water, and there’s a note on the table that she went to the store.”
“Oh, thank God,” I say. “I wouldn’t want her to hear what I’m about to do to you.”
Before she can ask what I mean, I quickly flip us so that she’s underneath me.
She giggles, “You know, I was trying to make you feel good.”
Pulling up her t-shirt to take each one of her nipples into my mouth, I say, “And while I fucking love that, I need to feel your sweet pussy wrapped around me right now.”
“Well, I definitely want to give you what you need.” She laughs.
While I lick and suck on her nipples, my hand reaches underneath her pajama pants to slide two fingers inside. God, she’s always so wet and ready for me.
As much as I want to tease her all day, I know that our time is limited. My mother won’t be gone long, and I don’t want to leave either of us unsatisfied.
I quickly grab a condom out of my suitcase, roll it on, and slide into her. I start slow, but it isn’t long before Abby is arching her back and begging for more.
“Harder,” she moans.
Bracing one of my hands on the headboard, I do as she asks and start fucking harder and faster. I set one of her legs on my shoulder while beginning to rub her clit with my thumb. Her hands roam on the bed until her fingers grip the sheet.
“Lift your shirt, baby,” I command. “Let me see those gorgeous tits.”
She does as I ask so that I can see them bouncing up and down. She may not think they are much to look at. But I love them. They’re the perfect size to fit in my hand…and my mouth.
I about lose my mind when I watch her pinch her nipples. As she does it, her eyes roll back, and she lets out a loud moan.
Please don’t let my mother come home at this moment. Because she’s going to hear far more than she wants to.
“Is this pussy going to come for me?” I ask.
She frantically nods.
“Let me hear it.”
I increase my tempo with my cock as well as my fingers which sends her flying right into her orgasm.
“Oh, God!” She cries. “Right there!”
Her pussy squeezes me so hard that I feel my balls tightening, ready to come. I keep fucking her until I’m sure that she’s wrung every ounce of pleasure out of her orgasm before I let go and give in to my own.
After I throw the condom away and come back to lie next to her, I say, “If you could wake me up like that every day, I would very much appreciate it.”
“Hey, if you make me come like that every time, then, you’ve got yourself a deal.”
I kiss the top of her head. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” She looks up at me.
“What do you want to do today, beautiful?” I ask.
“Actually, I have something planned for us. I mean, if you didn’t already have anything else in mind.”
“You have something planned for us? Here in Nebraska?”
She nods. “I’m a very mysterious lady.”
“I guess so.” I laugh. “Well, tonight, I had something planned, but it won’t be until later. So, I am all yours until then.”
“Perfect.”
What could this woman possibly have in store for me?
A little while later, I’m in the shower when I hear a knock on the door.
“Abby?” I call over the running water.
“Yes.”
When I hear her open the door, I poke my head out of the shower curtain to see her standing there with her eyes closed.
“Abby, what are you doing?”
“You’re in the shower. I don’t want to be rude.”
I laugh. “Open your eyes.” She does, and I say, “You’ve seen me naked plenty of times. I’m not worried about you seeing me in the shower.”
She steps closer to me and whispers, “I can’t see that beast hanging between your legs right now because I know that I’ll just end up climbing in there with you.”
Man, she’s adorable.
“And that’s a bad thing?” I ask.
“When we have things to do, yes. Plus, your mom is home—hence my reasoning for coming in here.”
“Huh?”
“She needs you to move the truck so that she can park closer to the garage or something.”
“Oh, okay,” I reply. “Just grab the keys off the dresser and go move it.”
“Uh, that’s okay,” she says. “It’s a rental. It’s under your name.”
“Who cares?”
She looks offended. “I care, Donovan. That’s…dishonest. And probably illegal.”
“Illegal? Who are you? The rental car police?” I read her face and try to figure out what’s going on. She looks like the cat who ate the canary.
“Wait a minute,” I say as it suddenly starts to sink in. “Do you not know how to drive?”
“What? That’s insane…” Her voice trails off at the end.
“Abby, I can sit here all day,” I tell her.
“Fine,” she huffs. “I can’t drive. I live in Manhattan! Why would I have any need to drive?”
“You never even wanted to get your license?”
She shrugs her shoulders. “What’s the point? I wouldn’t use it. And have you seen New York City? Do I look like someone who could keep her cool driving in that traffic? I think not.”
I can’t imagine not having a license. Then again, how often do I actually use mine in New York? Not all that often. Cabs and the subway have become my usual modes of transportation. So, who am I to judge?
“Alright, alright,” I say. “Give me a minute, and I’ll get out and come move the truck.”
“Where are we going, beautiful?” I ask Abby.
Since she can’t drive, she’s been giving me turn-by-turn directions. You’d think I would know exactly where we are headed since I grew up here, but we are far off the beaten path. And it’s been quite a while since I’ve been on some of these country roads. Even in my last few years of living here, I was mainly living and working in Omaha.
“It’s a surprise,” she mumbles. “Turn right up here.”
She gives me a couple more directions before I finally see a sign that says:
Goodwin Paintball
That can’t be where we are going, right? Abby doesn’t seem like the paintball type.
We turn onto a dirt road that leads back into the woods.
“Abby, baby, what are we doing?” I ask.
“Just having a little fun.”
I pull into a makeshift parking spot in the grass and put the truck in park.
“Okay, baby. You have some explaining to do,” I tell her. “Paintball?”
She nods. “I wanted to do something fun for you. And when I talked to Jill, she said this was something you loved to do when you lived here.”
When I don’t respond right away, she goes on, “Babe, you do a ton of really wonderful things for me. But they are primarily for me. I wanted to do something for you for once.”
I smile. “Did you just call me babe?”
“Yeah, I’m just trying it on. What do you think?”
I lean forward to kiss her. “I love it. But I also need you to know that when I do those things for you, I’m not doing them just to get something in return. I love taking care of you and making you smile.”
“I know. But sometimes, I want to return the favor.”
“Alright,” I reply. “Have you ever been paintballing before?”
“Nope.”
“I’ll try to take it easy on you then,” I tease.
“Oh, I figured you and I could be on the same team. We could gang up on the other guys.”
Just when I’m about to ask who we will be playing against, someone slapping my driver’s window scares the shit out of me. When I look over to see who it is, I see it’s Jill.
“Come on, pussy. Get out of the truck! Let’s do this!”
I turn to Abby. “I’m just warning you that Jill plays hard, and she will trash talk the entire time.”
“Bring it on.”
That’s my girl.
We get out, and Paul, who came with Jill, hands us each a pair of camo overalls and matching jackets. Then, we head over to grab our guns.
We start out with a couple of capture-the-flag games. Abby is quick and wily and can run much faster than Jill, which is honestly surprising…and super hot.
Much to Jill’s dismay, we win the first game. She calls us cheaters and then scumbags.
I look at Abby. “I said she would trash talk. I didn’t say she was good at it.”
They win the second game, and she runs around telling us to suck it. This time, Paul looks at us. “Sorry. She doesn’t get out much these days.”
“You better get your wife,” I joke.
“Have you met her? A SWAT team probably couldn’t get her.”
We play for the better part of the day, and I can’t stop watching Abby. For a girl who doesn’t get out of the house much, she sure looks like she’s fitting right in. The tried-and-true New Yorker looks like a bit of a country girl. I like her either way.
By the time we get to the free-for-all stage of play, she has little flecks of mud on her face and tiny twigs in her hair. I have no idea how she got so dirty, but it’s adorable.
If my sister and her husband weren’t here, I’d take her deeper into the woods and bend her over against one of these trees to have some fun. Then, I could get an answer to the age-old question.
If an Abigail has an orgasm in the woods, but there’s no one around to hear it, does she still make a sound?