Chapter 27 #2
“Nibbling,” she says as she leans forward and bites off a piece of popcorn like it’s a piece of candy off a candy necklace.
“Jesus,” I say, her teeth and lips scraping along my length as she takes off another and another and another.
Occasionally she licks, gives me a little more of her mouth, but for the most part, it’s her teeth.
And when she clears off a good amount of popcorn, occasionally licking the head of my cock, she wraps more popcorn string around and then starts nibbling again.
“Fuck, babe. You’re . . . you’re killing me. ”
She smiles up at me and swirls her tongue around the head again, causing me to groan and drape my arm over my eyes.
“Christ, you have to—”
A car door slams outside, followed by voices. What the hell?
I still.
“Wait, babe.”
“Are you really going to come already?” she asks, smiling up at me.
“No. I heard—”
The front door handle jiggles, the lock is undone, and I have a second to cover Betty with the blanket on the couch before the door flies open and my parents come waltzing in.
“Oh,” Mom says as she sees me on the couch in clearly quite a position.
The blanket is covering Betty and my popcorn-wrapped cock, but that’s about it. Clothes are scattered everywhere, and you can tell that my bare ass is firmly planted on my mom’s couch.
“Dear God.” Mom covers her eyes.
“What’s going on?” Dad asks, stepping in behind her where he spots me. “Are you naked on our couch?”
“Oh my God,” Betty says from under the blanket. “Oh my God, Atlas.”
“Is there a person under there?” Mom asks, pointing to the lump but then covering her eyes again.
This is . . . not ideal.
First of all, there was nary a mention of them coming home, so what the hell is happening right now?
Second of all, I’m naked, Betty just has a thong on, and my cock is still rock-hard with a popcorn garland wrapped around it.
Third of all . . . this is not how I wanted to introduce Betty to my parents.
And I really don’t know how to handle this.
Kind of at a loss at the moment, because how does one recover from this?
Wish I could phone a friend, ask Cole what I should do, but since that’s not an option, I go with whatever comes out of my mouth.
“Oh, hello, parents.” I clear my throat. “Uh, wasn’t aware of your arrival today. As a matter of fact, I’m naked, and yes, that’s a person under the blanket. Her name is Betty. Hey, Betty, why don’t you give a little wave to my parents?”
To my utter surprise, Betty sticks her hand outside the blanket and waves. “Hello, nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Maxheimer.”
“Umm, hello,” Mom says awkwardly.
“Hello.” Dad clears his throat.
“So anyway, we were just enjoying some, uh, arts and crafts.” I gesture to the strings of popcorn. “As you can see, we’re having a wonderful time doing it . . . I mean the crafts, doing the crafts, not it. We weren’t doing it. Just crafting.”
“Then why are you naked?” Dad asks.
I nod. “Yeah, it’s how we do arts and crafts. In the nude. You, uh, you haven’t done that before?”
“I prefer to craft with clothes on,” Mom says.
“Solid choice.” I nod again. “I think most people also prefer to craft with clothes on, but I also don’t think they’re aware of the benefits of crafting with clothes off, so . . . you know . . .”
“And what are the benefits?” Dad asks, crossing his arms.
Why they haven’t excused themselves and allowed us to gather our clothes and flee is beyond me. Instead, we’re going to discuss the benefits of crafting while naked. Leave it to the Maxheimers.
“Glad you asked,” I say, trying to come up with some benefits.
“Well, it takes you back to the roots, our ancestors, you know, carving things in caves before clothes were invented.” I scratch the side of my head as Betty shifts, her hair brushing along my thighs and still hard dick.
Christ, you would think the thing would deflate at this point.
Then again, it’s Betty, there’s popcorn wrapped around my cock, and I can feel her breath across my skin.
“Also, clothes don’t get in the way, you know, accidentally gluing a sleeve or sewing popcorn into your shirt. Really convenient to keep it naked.”
“And airflow,” Betty says from under the blanket. “Great airflow while doing arts and crafts. Never get too hot.”
“Great point, Betty. Solid, solid point. So there you have it.” I hold up one finger at a time as I say, “Ancestry, non-destruction of clothes, and airflow. Anyway, you’re back.”
“Hope your trip was great,” Betty says in a muffled voice. “Always wanted to visit the Christmas markets.”
“Yeah, did you, uh, did you enjoy yourselves?” I ask, crossing my arms now. Why the fuck are they still standing there?
“It was great,” Mom starts but then looks between us. “Are you just going to let her stay under that blanket?”
“I am.” I nod. “She’s only wearing a thong, so you know, doubt she wants to greet you with her breasts.”
“I prefer handshakes,” Betty shouts.
“And I prefer her breasts to stay private to me.”
“Well then . . . get dressed, for fuck’s sake,” Dad says.
Finally!
“Hard to do that when you’re just standing there, staring at us. Perhaps you could turn around for a moment, and we can gather ourselves?”
Dad grumbles and turns around with my mom.
I whip the blanket off Betty and then stand, pulling her up with me. I don’t have time to apologize before I press her back to my chest and then wrap the blanket around the both of us like a burrito. Covered—hopefully—I say, “We’re, uh, we’re going to make our way upstairs now.”
“Are you decent?” Dad asks.
“We’re covered,” I say. “You can turn around.”
They both turn around together as they take in Betty for the first time. Not just a floating hand and voice now.
Her hair is slightly tousled from the blanket, and her heated body is pressed against mine in all the wrong ways, her ass cheeks gliding against my cock, keeping me harder than I want to be with my parents only fifteen feet away.
“Well, hello.” Dad waves. “Welcome to our home.”
“Yes, welcome to our home,” Mom says with a curt nod as we all awkwardly stand here.
“Thank you for having me,” Betty says, keeping a cheeriness in her voice. She deserves a fucking award after this. “It’s such a beautiful home. Very cozy and inviting.”
“I’m glad you enjoy it,” Mom says, looking like she’s wishing she was still back at the Christmas markets.
I clear my throat, wanting to get a move on with this. “Well, we’re just going to head on upstairs if you’ll excuse us.” We take a few steps forward, only for something to drop to the floor.
What the hell was—
Wait . . .
Nooooooo.
In an instant, I feel my entire face go red.
My expression grows stark.
My muscles twitch with regret.
Holy.
Shit.
I forgot to take off the fucking garland.
It’s still attached to my goddamn dick.
“What’s that?” Dad asks, pointing to the floor, between my legs. “It’s moving.”
“Moving?” Mom shrieks, clutching Dad like it’s some sort of Christmas snake about to bite her.
Growing sweaty, I say, “That’s, uh, that’s a popcorn garland.”
“Oh.” Dad nods in relief. “It’s just popcorn garland, Ida. Must have fallen when he got up.”
“Oh.” Mom chuckles. “I would have been horrified if it was some sort of mouse. Don’t want our guest thinking our house is infested with mice.”
“I would never,” Betty says. “You have such a beautiful house. Very well kept. I would never consider that mice took residence here.”
Mom smiles sweetly while Dad nods toward the second floor. “Well, go on, get upstairs. Put some clothes on.”
Yup, well, easier said than done.
Keeping the blanket wrapped around the both of us, we shuffle forward, only for the garland to shuffle along with us, trailing between my legs.
What are the goddamn chances?
“Oh, I think the garland is attached to the blanket,” Mom says, pointing to the ground.
Nope, not so much.
“I can grab that for you.”
Mom heads toward us, reaching for the garland, but I squeeze my ass cheeks together and yelp, “No, nope, don’t touch it.”
“It’s fine, dear. I can grab it for you.”
She bends down, and I screech, “It’s attached to my dick. Do not tug it. Do not pull. It’s attached to my penis, so please for the love of God, just let it be.”
Mom backs up, looking absolutely horrified. “Why on earth would it be attached to your penis?”
Great question, and I’m about to tell her when Betty steps in.
“Umm, is that not how you make popcorn garland?” Betty asks. “I could have sworn that was in the provided instructions.”
“We absolutely did not write that—”
“Ida,” Dad grumbles from the entryway, dragging his hand over his face. “They were clearly playing around with the garland in a sexual manner, and we walked in on them. It’s got to be something the young people are doing these days. Probably saw it on social media somewhere.”
“Actually, we came up with it ourselves,” Betty says, and I can feel her wince even though I can’t see it.
“Actually, you’re right, it was social media.
Definitely not something I came up with on the spot.
Nor was I eating the popcorn off his penis.
I was just . . . um, wrapping it around his penis because we wanted to .
. . uh . . . we wanted to see how much we could wrap around for scientific purposes, you know, because he’s so long and thick—”
“And we’re going upstairs,” I say, moving her along, the garland trailing behind. “Please, remove this from your memory. When we return, we will have a normal conversation about your trip. Okay? Great. Thanks.”
We start up the stairs, plastered to each other, and with every step I take, the garland bangs against the wood stair, slightly tugging on my cock, reminding my parents what they just walked in on.
Yup, this very well might ruin Christmas.