Page 7 of Sam to the Rescue
“This is your fault. Grab yourself and tell me what you feel.”
My fingers curl around my thick length and in my mind, I’m entering her. A bead of fluid leaks out the top which I use to lubricate my motions. “If I was there with you, I would sit down in my favorite chair and place you in my lap facing me. With your pretty boobs right where I like, I’d suck them while you ride me.”
“Suds…”
“Babe, you with me?”
“Not quite.” She brings her phone closer to her mouth, her breath ragged.
I fist myself harder and slide up and down with thoughts of her beautiful body. “Wait for me.”
“Ah, ah…” At her pre-orgasmic squeak, blood runs south, my balls tighten, and in tandem with my wife’s sweet sigh, beads of cum spew forth.
A few minutes later, soft snoring emits from the speaker which I keep near my ear as a talisman against Taliban sleep-demons.
Chapter 4
Sam
“Da-da-ba-ba.” My little angel sings from his bedroom as Catrina jumps on my bed and adds her harmony.
“Meow, meow, meow.”
“Tia Sa-sa?” My niece joins in the cacophony, making it a trio.
“Oh my God… zilla. It’s way too early.” Extracting the pillow from over my head, I hop out of bed and brew some decaf.
Damn. What I wouldn’t give for a real cup of coffee. After pouring my niece some breakfast and the cat some kibble, I walk down the hall to nurse Mikey.
“Holy Sheetcake!” I stick a finger into his mouth to relieve the pressure made by sharp teeth.
I’ve searched the internet and none of the hints work. My latest intelligence says to add real food to his diet. My throat tightens as I think of the end of nursing but as I burp him, I picture eating and drinking like I used to. Then, I feel guilty for being so happy.
That’s way too many emotions before breakfast.
With the baby fed and dressed, I pour myself a quick bowl of Toasted Oaty-Os. Mikey’s in the high chair, Kimmy’s banging a sauce pot with a wooden spoon, and the two cats hiss at each other.
“Yo, Sammy. You decent?” Joey shouts from two floors below as I slip into my jeans.
Rose, her bedroom directly under mine, bangs on the wall. “Holy shit. Shut the fuck up. You know what time it is?”
Saint Mia, her sister, pounds in stereo. “No cursing. What the hell is wrong with youz guyz?”
Throwing on a blouse, I lower the stairs, and notice my front buttons are one off.
Up all night, my only male cousin walks into the kitchen and helps himself to a bowl of cereal and pats Mikey on the head. “Hey kiddo. How’s tricks?”
“Ca-ca.” My son grins and holds out his hands.
Even though his nephew called him a piece of poop, my cousin beams. “You here dat? He said uncle.”
Laughing, I quickly change the subject. “What did you find out last night?”
He parks at my kitchen table and shovels a huge spoonful into his mouth. “Well, I followed our new client’s wife. I call her big booty.”
“The former Miss Miami?”
“Yeah, more likeMoon Over Miami.Anyhow, she went straight home. No men, no nothing. Around midnight her lights go out so I stopped at Hoochie’s place and grabbed a beer with a few of my old buddies. Then, while I’m hanging out, this old geezer gets into it with a wanna-be military dude.”