Chapter 17 #2
We had a conversation recently about my father.
She strongly encouraged me to rebuild my relationship with him.
She encouraged me to rebuild my relationship with my mother too, but she doesn’t have all the facts.
Fallon is close with her parents and credits them with getting her through the lows of her divorce.
Between that and what Pierce told me tonight, it’s given me a lot to consider when it comes to my father.
It won’t be overnight, but I want to try to find a place for him in my life.
Speaking of Fallon, she’s now officially an assistant coach.
She was anyway, but Coach Carroll is on bed rest. There were some complications with her pregnancy, and she’s gone for the season.
It was a no-brainer to move Fallon into that role.
Every single person on the team is happy about it.
Fallon insisted on maintaining her role as our trainer too, so now she has two jobs.
I toss and turn throughout most of the night, exactly what I don’t need the night before my first game of the season.
I think I ate a bad piece of shrimp because I got sick as soon as I got home, but I drank about two gallons of water to make sure I won’t be dehydrated for my game, and my stomach is feeling fine now.
I texted Pierce and Booster. They both had the same reaction. That was an expensive steakhouse. It’s such bullshit that we got spoiled shrimp, but at least the three of us are feeling better after expelling the bad food.
What I really needed was a few orgasms to help me get a good night’s sleep, but the silicone orgasms aren’t the same as the touch of a man. Sadly, there’s only one man on my mind right now.
I’ve replayed my time with Daylen over and over again throughout the past two months.
The big asshole has managed to worm his way inside.
I hate how much I’ve begun to look forward to our dates; almost sad on the evenings I don’t get to see him.
His previously annoying jokes are now somehow funny to me.
Our hate-banter has become lighter and fun, given that neither of us truly means it anymore. We’ve sort of become…friends.
When we had our monthly counseling session with the judge the other night, we were practically finishing each other’s sentences.
We’ve learned one another inside and out without realizing we were doing it.
It was bizarre. I’ve never had that with a man before.
He seemed as shocked as I was by our knowledge of each other’s subtle nuances.
Judge Deathbed had a self-satisfied look on his face the whole time. I had to throw in some jabs about Daylen just to wipe the smug smile off his face.
It’s early in the morning. The sun hasn’t even made its way over the horizon just yet. I’m going to give an orgasm one last shot, hoping it will help to give me another hour or two of sleep before the sun comes up and I have to start my day.
I pull out my biggest vibrator. Truth be told, I ordered this one recently because it sort of resembles Daylen’s dick in a weird way. I came across it online, and it was…familiar. Eerily familiar.
I grab some lube and spread it over the tip and then down a few more inches, just enough to give me what I need. I’m about to get to work when my doorbell rings. Who in the fuck is at my door at this hour?
I quickly pull up my sleep shorts and, without realizing that the vibrator is still in my hand, I run for the front door, fearing that something is the matter. Is the building on fire? There’s an elderly couple across the hall. Maybe one of them is in medical need.
Without bothering to waste time looking through the peephole, I open the door in a rush and see Daylen standing there with a tormented look on his face. He’s in a T-shirt and athletic shorts but is holding a sweatshirt in front of his waist.
“Daylen? What the hell are you doing here at this hour? Are you injured?” He looks like he’s in genuine pain.
He lifts the sweatshirt away from his waist, and I see a giant—I mean giant—boner tenting his shorts.
I burst out laughing. “Oh my god. What the fuck?”
He’s practically hyperventilating as he breathes heavily. “I will write you a million-dollar check if you let me fuck you right now. I swear. I brought my checkbook. Whatever it takes.”
Still unable to control my laughter, I ask, “What happened?”
He holds up four fingers, dropping one with each word. “Beau. Fudd. Boner. Shake.”
My laughter only grows. Holy shit. He had a Boner Shake and now has the biggest boner in creation. I guess that stuff really works.
He practically weeps, “I’ve jerked off more times than you can imagine.
It won’t go down. I need a pussy. I need your pussy.
My wife’s pussy is the bestest pussy I’ve ever had.
I swear.” He drops to his knees. “Please. Name your price. I will take you on a shopping spree that puts Pretty Woman to shame. Richard Gere is my bitch. No, he’s your bitch.
Anything in the world you want. Please help me,” he whimpers.
“Get up, you moron. Come inside before you wake my neighbors. The old couple across the way have bat ears.” I point to his boner. “You’re going to scare them with that thing.”
He stands up and walks inside, still with a massive tent in his shorts. I close the door behind him, uncertain what to do.
He nods toward my vibrator, which I forgot was in my hand. “Busy morning for you too?”
I twist my lips. “Hmm. Something like that.”
He studies it more carefully. “Is that the JimmyJane 8800 Special Edition?”
I blink a few times in shock. “Why do you know that?”
He smirks. “Because I dated Jimmy and Jane’s daughter once. She asked me if I would be the dick model for it.” He nods toward it with a satisfied look on his face. “That’s my dick. Didn’t you recognize it?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you fucking with me right now?”
He grabs the vibrator and pulls down his pants. A massive boner bounces up and down. It’s oozing. He wasn’t kidding about the effects of the Boner Shake. Good lord, that thing is pulsating and angry. And mouthwatering.
Grabbing hold of his cock, he points to a slightly uneven ridge on the lip of the head. With his other hand, he turns the vibrator to show me it has the same ridge.
With a shaking finger, I point at the vibrator. “This is actually your cock?”
He nods emphatically. “Yes, just like I said. I was her dick model for this. Why do you think it’s the 8800? It’s a subtle nod to my jersey number. And why the hell else would I know the vibrator make and model number? I don’t usually see vibrators. In fact, it’s the only one I’ve seen in my life.”
I think my chin is on the floor. I’m speechless. The odd thing is that I bought it because I noticed the damn resemblance. I think he might be telling me the truth.
He clears his throat as he strokes his cock a few times, making a dull ache begin to take form between my legs, knowing the itch that beautiful cock could easily scratch for me. I can’t take my eyes off it.
“Can we please negotiate?” he pleads as I snap my head up so my eyes meet his again. “Anything, I mean anything you want is yours. Full disclosure, I will need at least three or four rounds to get this under control.”
I chew on my lips. Truth be told, I need this too. I want it. I wanted it weeks ago when we were watching television together. If he pushed things, I would have said yes back then.
I’m not giving in so easily though. I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t fuck with him a little bit. An idea occurs to me. Staring at him, I announce, “I have conditions.”
Without hesitating and without an obnoxious reply, he nods. “Name them. Anything.” He reaches down to his shorts around his ankles and pulls an actual checkbook out of the pocket. “Anything.”
I grab the checkbook and toss it to the ground on top of his sweatshirt. “I’m not a hooker. I don’t want money.”
“Oookay. What do you want?”
I bite back my smile as I hold up two fingers. “I want two things. First, I want you to wear my jersey to my game tonight.”
“Done. Easy. I’ll wear it until the end of time. I’ll buy a thousand of them and wear them to every game.”
I nod. “Good. Condition two. Your first orgasm will be wherever and however I want to give it to you. There may be some spanking and other actions involved, but it’s one hundred percent under my control. After that one, you can fuck me however and wherever you want.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “Can I do the minivan?”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Two in the front and five in the back.”
I bark out a laugh. God, this man does make me laugh sometimes.
With a smile on my face, I nod in agreement.
“Whatever you need to get off, but remember, your first orgasm is entirely under my control. If you don’t give it to me, the rest of the activities are off the table.
And no visible marks on my body that could be seen in a basketball uniform.
I have nationally televised games all week. ”
He reaches for my flimsy tank top and rips it straight down the middle, all while shouting, “Deal,” before bending down and latching his mouth to my nipple.
I slap him across the face. Hard. He jerks his head up in obvious surprise. “What?”
Tossing the vibrator to the ground with the checkbook and the sweatshirt, I press my finger to his chest and poke him several times.
“I said I’m in charge of your first orgasm.
Do not test me, Humblecut. I won’t hesitate to leave you hanging.
” I look down at his cock, which is seemingly defying gravity.
“More like I’ll leave you standing at attention. ”
He sighs as he stares shamelessly at my chest. “I think I could come from sucking on your tits right now. I love your tits. I dream of your tits. I jerk off to your tits. I—”