It’s an aberration. And by aberration, I mean it’s huge. Like Guinness Book of World Records material. I’m not exaggerating on his behalf, either. Alex and I go through a lot of lube—though mostly for boob sex. But this time we’re in the shower, and I’m wet and slippery, so we’re good to go.

I think Alex has designs on getting me off before he gets inside me, though. It’s been more than a week, so I’m not feeling all that patient. My eyes are glued to our reflection in the mirror. The shower is fogging up again, so I swipe my palm along the slick surface to clear it, then reach behind me for Alex’s cock.

We both groan when I slide the head along the crack of my ass, trying not to tense as he passes my backdoor. Alex makes all sorts of jokes about getting up in there, which is impossible. He’d never fit in a million years. Never. I don’t think.

“Holy—Violet, what’re you—” There’s a tremor of excitement in his voice, as if he actually thinks I might offer to let him try. But then I pass my Area 51 and line him up with door number one. He doesn’t react other than to curl his fingers one last time, hitting that special spot, before he withdraws.

His lips are soft on my shoulder. His expression turns to ecstasy as he pushes inside. “God, I missed you so much.”

“Me, too. I mean, I missed you. Not myself.”

The first time we have sex after he’s been away is always amazing, but the second time is usually more intense. I’m not sure that’s going to be the case this time. I’ve never been much of a voyeur, but being able to watch what’s happening to me, while it’s happening, is awesome.

I brace one hand on the glass and widen my stance, giving me an even better view as Alex thrusts and retreats. No wonder guys are either focused on the boobs or the beaver, because this looks fantastic. It also feels amazing, so the two combined make the experience phenomenal.

Alex puts his hand over mine, forcing me to lean forward. It means I can’t see as much, but he goes deeper, and I can still see his face, and my boobs are bouncing away, so it gets a thumbs up.

“I’m not going to last like this,” Alex warns.

“It’s okay,” I groan. I’m close anyway. I reach down and rub the beaver button.

“You want to do it again after the shower?” he pants, speeding up.

His eyes meet mine in the mirror, so I nod. His grin is all dimples and primal male satisfaction. He pushes my hand out of the way and takes over the rubbing.

I don’t know how he can do this while he’s still thrusting away. It takes an incredible amount of coordination. It’s like when you’re supposed to pat your head and rub your tummy at the same time. They’re two very discordant actions, so technically it should be impossible. But Alex is super amazing, so he’s able to do both.

The glass keeps fogging up even when I wipe it away, maybe because I’m panting against it, so I look down at Alex’s hand moving furiously between my thighs. He’s on a mission to make me come, bless his generous soul.

I feel it then, the telling warmth that starts as a tingle and evolves into a burn. It comes fast and hits hard.

Alex is considerate enough to keep his arm around my waist to prevent me from mashing my face into the glass. I claw at it anyway, seeking some kind of traction because sweet Jesus, all I can see are stars and galloping unicorns and hazy rainbows.

“Fuck yeah, baby. You feel so fucking good.”

Alex doesn’t use excessive profanity. He’s actually quite polite most of the time, but he seems to lose that civilized edge when we have sex—more specifically when I come. I like that he’s so enthusiastic about it.

His fierce concentration tells me he’s getting close. He swipes his arm over the glass to clear the fog.

“I’m not gonna come inside you,” he grunts.

“Why not?”

“Because I still wanna eat your pussy.”

“Good call.” See why I love him? He’s such a planner.

He thrusts twice more and pulls out. Fisting his cock, he turns to the right as I spin and sink to my knees. I open my mouth and point to my boobs, giving him options. His eyes bounce between the two, his indecision obvious. I make the choice for him when I lean forward, wrap my lips around the head, and suck.

Alex swears like a trucker as he comes. I swallow, because it’s more polite than spitting. When he’s done, he drops to his knees and kisses me. He doesn’t invite much in the way of tongue, though—not that I blame him since I now have jizz breath.

“It’s so good to be home,” he says.

I hum in agreement. Alex is the best place in the world to be.

3

Bad Words

Make Trouble

ALEX

I hate alarms. Especially when I’ve been up half the night having sex. With my fiancée.

Violet groans from under her pillow and slaps around on the nightstand, searching for her phone so she can turn it off. I roll on top of her, grab the device, and hit snooze. Shoving the pillow out of the way, I burrow through her hair until I get to her neck. Kissing her sleep-warm skin, I say, “Don’t go to work today.”

“I can’t not go to work, Alex.”

“I’ll make it worth your while.” I roll my hips against her ass.

Violet makes a noise, like maybe she appreciates where my cock is, and how hard I am, but she says, “I can’t.”

“Why not?” I sound whiny. It’s not very manly, but I’ve been without Violet for eight days, and I want time with her. Her working today makes this difficult. I don’t like difficult. I like getting what I want.