15. Bitsy
Bitsy
“Ibelieve you,” I said once we were home, and for the first time this week we were alone. “Let’s put it behind us, Chad.”
“The old Chad was a spineless idiot,” he said fiercely. “I’d rather lick toilets for a living than go back to being that guy again.”
“Aw, I kind of liked that guy. Don’t give up everything about being him.”
“Well, maybe not everything. But definitely the parts about being a coward and not appreciating my wife.”
His fingers tightened over mine, like he was afraid I was going to pull my hand away.
“I was so afraid you were going to choose Zach and when I saw you made him a lunch, it confirmed all my worst fears.”
“I charged him $200 for that,” I laughed. “I figure if there’s such a thriving market for corporate packed lunches, I might as well get in on it.”
“Have I ever told you that you’re incredibly clever?” he marveled. “Much better at business than I am. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s in the past. We don’t need to talk about it again. Let’s move on. In all ways.”
I touched his forearm, the first time I’d touched him in weeks, and he jerked up to attention.
Chad stared, his chest heaving up and down with emotion. “Do you really mean that?”
“Yeah,” I said, smiling at him. “I do. Let’s see what you can come up with.”
There was a short pause while I saw his eyes welling with tears, and my husband cleared his throat several times, wiping his hands up and down on his golf pants.
“I’m a zombie,” Chad said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m a zombie and I want to eat your brains.”
I grinned and picked up the hem of my skirt. “Oh my god, no! I’m just a simple villager out here picking mushrooms. Tra-la-la-la, how could anything horrible happen on such a beautiful day?”
Chad put his arms out in front of him like a zombie.
“Brainsssssss,” he intoned.
I bent like I was picking mushrooms, pretending like I didn’t see him coming.
“Tra-la-la, I don’t even need my panties mushroom picking. They are getting in my way.”
I reached to the waistband and wriggled my thong down my thighs and let it fall on the ground as my husband grunted yearningly.
“I just feel so fresh and free this way.”
“Pusssyyyy,” Chad droned like a zombie. “I want to eat pussyyyyyy actually.”
I hopped away from his reaching arms and twirled around the kitchen counter.
“Ohmygod, it’s a zombie!” I shrieked. “No! You shan’t get me! You must want my beautiful, pink, juicy brain and you can’t have it!”
Chad lumbered after me and I could see tears sparkling in his eyes.
“I. . . can. . .only. . .think. . .about. . . one. . . thing. . . “
He reached out, his fingers gripping my shirt, and with one yank, he pulled it off my body, buttons popping off in all directions.
Damn, now my heart was hammering in my chest, my breath coming in quick little pants.
“Well, if it isn’t a pervert zombie,” I squeaked, rounding the corner as Chad twisted way faster than a zombie should be moving.
“What are you, some kind of Superman zombie?” I asked indignantly, out of breath. “You shouldn’t be moving this fast.”
“I’m motivated,” the zombie behind me said, and at the look in his eyes I squeaked, but he had already reached out and popped open my bra.
Now I was running around the table practically naked, my breasts out and only a tiny little skirt in between me and the ravenous zombie.
“Please,” he said, and I could feel his breath on my throat, rustling my pigtails.
“How dare you! I thought zombies only cared about brains.”
“I only care about you,” he countered, and then he caught me, spinning me around against the counter and gathering me in his arms.
I could still taste tears on his lips as he pressed them down on mine, his hands grasping desperately at my hair, burying his hands in it and clutching me tightly.
“I love you, oh, I love you so much. Please, baby, another chance. I won’t screw it up, I promise.”
I opened my mouth for his angsty, feverish tongue, allowing myself the pleasure of my husband’s kisses, and he held me so tight I knew there’d be finger-marks tomorrow.
“Now let me take my reward,” he rumbled. “The sweet, sweet taste of pussy.”
Chad popped me up on the counter and split my legs, and I could feel my nipples tightening, breasts aching with desire.
It was heated and heavy between my legs, boiling hot and dripping with arousal.
His hands were trembling as he gently spread my thighs wider, and I had to bite my lip to resist a groan to see his dark curly head between my thighs.
“You’re at the wrong end for the brain,” I said. “Not a very good zombie.”
“Even better than brains,” he said. “And I plan to be a very good husband.”
“I love you,” I said, digging my hands into his hair and giving it a quick little tug.
“I love you too! God, so much, baby.”
He put a finger inside me, and then I did groan, so wet and ready.
“God you’re so hot and tight.”
He swirled his tongue around my clit once, then dove into my pussy with exaggerated zombie chomping sounds, and I had to giggle in between the orgasm I could feel fast approaching.
Because maybe to most people this was corny as hell.
But there was nothing better than it.
Not a damn thing.