Chapter 9

Legos, the most deadly form of home security.

-Truth

Ember

“Get that out of my face.” Cheyenne said to me.

 

“It’s not in your face, it’s in my hand.”

 

“Get what’s in your hand out of my face.”

  

Both of us burst out laughing.

 

“Do you both ever stop?  That’s all I fucking hear.  If I have to hear penis, penis, penis, vagina, vagina, vagina one more time, I’ll shoot myself,” James said petulantly.

 

Sherlock Holmes and Varsity Blues were only two of the movies that we constantly quoted.  We were both goody two shoes in high school.  All we did was watch movies and eat in front of the television.  We didn’t party, we didn’t stay out late, and we didn’t do anything illegal.  Wmaybe not too illegal, but still.  Our families were lucky we watched movies; we could’ve been having sex with half of Kilgore’s population like the rest of our senior class.

 

“Penis, penis, penis.!”  Janie yelled.

 

James whipped his head around and glared at us as if it was our fault.  Not once today had we even said anything from Varsity Blues!  He’s the one who said it.  Sticking my tongue out right back, I turned my head back to the computer and started pointing out the bike helmets that I liked.

 

I’d gone back the next day to find it, but when I did there wasn’t much left but a shell.  The straps had chew marks, and no padding was left where your head went.  I still haven’t heard the end of that one.

 

“She’s three, James.  What exactly do you expect when you say something that’s so easy and catchy for her to say?”  Cheyenne asked.

 

He’d been with her for a year now, and he still found himself flabbergasted at the stuff she said and did.  Just last month she’d tried to take a shit on the potty at Lowe’s.  While Cheyenne and I were busy laughing our asses off, James was running in the opposite direction.  We’d calmly taken her down once we’d gotten ourselves under control, and then took her to the actual potty.  She still never figured out why you couldn’t go since there was a potty right there that she could use.

 

“I like that one.  The one with the skull.  Do you think he would let me wear it?”  I asked the group in general.

 

“He’ll be happy as long as you have a helmet, dimwit,” James grumped.

 

Throwing my ruler at him blindly I said, “Order it.”

 

Cheyenne one clicked it, and that was that.

 

“You know, he said to pick one up at the Harley shop today.”  James said helpfully.

 

“I didn’t like any of those, loser.  Plus, this will be here tomorrow by one in the afternoon, guaranteed.”  I replied.

 

“Doesn’t help the fact that he will want you to have it for tonight when we do that rally for the local schools.”

 

“I’ll wear Cheyenne’s.  Since she’s not allowed on the bike anymore.”

 

“I’m so going on the bike.  Get your own helmet.”  Cheyenne said.

 

“No you’re not.  Sam said so, and we both agree.  No more bike for the pregnant chick,” I said, nodding to James with my head.

 

“Harrumph,” she grouched.

 

“Speaking of which, we need to go ahead and get some hotel rooms.  Gabe left me his card so we could charge them on the company account.  Let’s go ahead and get that over with since we’re already online,” I advised.

 

Thirty minutes, four websites, and six hundred dollars later, we had six rooms for two nights.  The town of Tulsa was going to be insanely busy, so we booked our hotels about forty-five minutes from there, in a small town called Bixby.  We probably weren’t the only ones to think staying an hour drive away would be easier in the end, but it would have to do.

 

“Alrighty then.  I have myself a date at Shogun’s tonight, with Gabe, after the rally.  What should I wear?”  I asked Cheyenne.

 

For the next couple of hours we listened to the soundtrack for Pitch Perfect and searched for some clothes that would be appropriate for a biker babe, and a hot date at Shogun’s, one of the nicest restaurants in three towns.

***

“Shouldn’t we be getting to the rally?”  I asked.

 

“We are.  I just wanted to take you here first.”  Gabe said as he pulled up in front of a plain brick building.

 

The black door sported a gun decal with Doc underneath of it.

 

“What is this place?”  I asked.

 

“This is the Gun Doctor,” he said as if I knew what he was talking about, which I didn’t.

 

Why would you need a gun doctor?

 

“Umm, why?”  I asked confused.

 

“So we can get you a pistol that’s more comfortable for you, and fits your hand better,” Gabe said simply.

 

Well, didn’t that just explain everything?  He held the door for me; the smell of gun oil immediately assaulted my senses, making me sneeze. 

 

There were glass cases encircling the room.  Any and every type of gun adorned the cases.  On the walls hung some rifles and shotguns.  Immediately, my eye snagged a purple shotgun, and I fell in love.

 

“I want that one,” I said pointing to it.

 

“That one won’t fit into your purse,” he said dryly.

 

“Okay, but when we come back I’m getting that one,” I said before starting to look into all the cases.

 

“Can I help y’all?” a young sales associate asked.

 

“You the Gun Doctor?”  I asked him.

 

“Nope.  Just an employee.  Can I show you anything?”  The sales associate asked.

 

“This one,” I said pointing towards a black gun with hot pink grips.

 

“Jesus, I should have known you’d pick that one.  That one is a .40 caliber.  Not too bad of a gun either.  It’s a Ruger SR40.  We can get you some lithium sites for it too,” Gabe said.

 

“Damn.  I guess you don’t really even need me.” The sales associate stated.

 

“We want to take it into the range and try it out.  We’ll need a box of ammo too.  Some of those disposable ear plugs also,” Gabe said.

 

The associate didn’t hop to very fast though.  He was busy checking out my tits.  I knew I should have worn a bra, but Cheyenne guaranteed me that I didn’t need one.

 

“Now would be nice,” Gabe barked.

 

Rolling my eyes, I began to wander the room while they discussed the details.  This place would be the place you would want to be if you were ever attacked by someone, or something.  Every type of gun imaginable was here.  Some even looked like they were from the future.  One of the guns had a rounded tip at the end of the barrel; I studied it wondering what it was.

 

“Laser sights,” Gabe said from behind me, making me jump three feet in the air.

 

“Jesus.  Don’t you ever stop doing that?  You’re like a fricking cat!”  I gasped.

 

Gabe’s smile was beautiful; I always felt my heart flutter when he gave me one as he was giving me now.

 

Wandering around some more, I came to a stop in front of the shotgun again.

  

“Can I help you?”  A young woman asked.

 

She was probably a year or two older than my twenty-six.  She had short blonde hair that came to just under her chin.  She was tiny, maybe five feet at the most.  The more I looked at her, the more she seemed familiar to me.  She seemed to be studying me as well.  Her head tilted slightly to the side.  I’d seen her before.  Then suddenly it hit me. 

 

“Jolie!”  I squealed.

 

“Ember?”  She asked.

 

“When did you move back?”  I asked excitedly.

 

She smiled sadly before saying, “My mom passed away a few months ago.  This is the first time I’ve been back, ya’ know, since that happened.”

 

I nodded sadly.  Jolie’s dad killed James’ best friend in high school.  Something terrible had happened to her, and I haven’t seen her since she left in the middle of senior year.  James was always sticking up for her, watching over her.  They’d started spending a ton of time together.  Cheyenne and I had been in junior high when all of that went down.  Though we heard about it, we never experienced it firsthand. 

 

James did, and he did not like it.  There was a huge fight during their senior year picnic; James left with a suspension, and Jolie never came back.  Apparently, it was something bad, because never once did we hear exactly what happened from our brothers.  James was pretty close to her, but he never opened his mouth.  He was in a sort of depression for a while after Jolie left.  I think she was the reason that he went into the army, and Max, being his best friend, followed him.

 

Jolie hadn’t changed much in thirteen years.  She looked just as great at 32.  Her hair was a tad shorter but other than that, she was still the tiny, spunky girl that she used to be.  I wonder how long it would take James to figure out she was back.  He had ways of knowing things.  That, or I might tell him; he deserves to know.

 

“What are you doing working here?”

 

“There’re guns here.  I figure it’s the best place for me.  I’m not going to tell you why.  I’d rather not tell you in here anyway.  Maybe we can meet for drinks sometime,” she said quietly.

 

A sick feeling lodged in my throat, and I knew it was something bad.  I felt two strong arms wrap around my waist and pull me up against a hard chest.  Jolie’s eyes had widened until nearly all the white was showing.  She also seemed to shrink into herself, as if she was scared of a big man like Gabe. 

 

“Got a lane.  Let’s go, we have to be at the rally in about forty five minutes, and I want to see if you like this before we buy it.”

 

“That sounds great, Jolie.  Call me whenever is good for you,” I said with a sincere smile.

 

Giving Jolie a meaningful look, we headed into the back of the store.  We came to a metal door, and the young man who helped us opened it and walked through.  It led into a room that was roughly the size of a small gym.  At the far end, targets hung.  In front of each target stood a metal table and chair.  There was plexi-glass sectioning off each table for flying shells.

 

The young man showed us how to use the mechanical target mover, and then left us to it.  Gabe gave me a set of earplugs, and I hung them around my neck when he started to explain.

 

“Alright, this doesn’t have a safety you click on and off, it’s got a trigger safety.  You have to depress both the little lever on the trigger and the trigger at the same time to shoot it.  Don’t put your finger on the trigger unless you intend to shoot something.  If you point this at someone, you had better intend to shoot him, or her, with it.  Don’t bluff, because they might call you on it.”

 

He then went on to show me how to load the magazine, inject a bullet into the chamber, unload it, and then, finally, how to aim and fire.  He then unloaded it, and then handed it to me.  My guess was this was a test to make sure I knew what I was doing.

 

I smiled, grabbed the earplugs from around my neck, and then put them into my ears. 

 

I did know what I was doing.  Expertly, I loaded the magazine, then the gun, and then aimed and fired at the target.  Firing rapidly, I unloaded the clip as fast as I could.  Then, I set the pistol down and studied the target.  Center mass on all but one, and that was the one where I aimed for the head. 

 

Still got it.

 

“Jesus.  You didn’t tell me you could shoot like that.  I think I just came in my pants a little.  That was hot!” Gabe hollered, while he studied the target as well.

 

“Cheyenne and I used to compete in high school.  My dad was big into competition shooting, and I was daddy’s little girl.  I can shoot skeet too.  We had a blast, and I continued shooting after dad died.  I knew he’d want me to.”

 

He levered the target up to the front and replaced the target with a new one.  This one had nearly an entire body. 

 

“I’m gonna move it, you shoot for the fives.”

 

The fives were located at the main artery points.  Carotid, subclavian, brachial, femoral, and popliteal.  Supposedly, these were designed as kill shots when you couldn’t shoot center mass to bring your target down.  If you wanted them down for good and didn’t have a good center mass shot, you would aim for these areas.  I loaded my magazine, chambered it, and then got ready.

 

“Go,” Gabe said and then moved the target sharply to the right.

 

I took aim and got within an inch of the femoral artery on the right leg.  He moved it sharply backwards and slightly to the left.

 

“Go.”

 

We continued this pattern until I fired all nine shots.  He pulled the target and studied it silently for a couple seconds.  Then he turned to me and regarded me intently.

 

“Mother fucker.  You’re a crackshot!”  Gabe stated, grinning.

 

“I guess so.  Can we go now?”  I asked.

  

I didn’t like how shooting made me feel anymore.  I didn’t enjoy it like I used to, and ever since my dad died I didn’t feel like having anything to do with it.  I’d made it through to my senior year before I stopped competing.  It brought up too many memories.  They were bittersweet, and reminded me of what I was missing

 

Left a huge gaping hole in my heart.

 

Gabe must have made the connection, because the next thing I knew I was wrapped in his arms, fighting back tears.

 

“You’re not alone anymore, Em.  I’ll always be here.  I love you, sweetheart.  Cheyenne, the girls, Sam, Blaine.  Everyone loves you.  You’re not alone,” he said as he kissed my forehead.

 

We left shortly after.  Gabe was also the proud new owner of a .40 caliber Ruger something or another.  I’m sure there’s a name for it.  I’m also sure he told me, but, like always, it went in one ear and out the other.  You would think after six years of competition shooting that I would know what kind of weapons I’d used.  I didn’t.  That was my dad’s job, and I refused to take it over.

 

“So, where exactly are we supposed to meet for this Biker’s Rule for School?”  I yelled into Gabe’s ear. 

 

We were driving down Highway 42, and it seemed to me we were more riding than getting to a destination.  We passed over the Sabine River, and I noticed that it was getting quite low.  We’d had one hell of a summer, and we were lucky it was as high as it was.  Sometimes, during a bad summer, the river slowed down to little more than a creek in some spots.

 

“You’ll see.”  Gabe said cryptically.

 

We rode for another ten minutes or so when I saw the first bike.  Then it wasn’t just one, it was hundreds.  We waved, spoke, joked around, and rode.  What the Bikers Rule for School was, was a bunch of bikers entering their bikes in the rally.  You didn’t even have to be a bad ass like Gabe and the rest of the guys; you could be an old man going through his midlife crisis.  The money that you paid to enter your bike then went to buying the local kids school supplies.  This was my first year riding in it, but it sure wouldn’t be the last.

 

We rode for six hours straight.  By the end of the day, I was ready to drop.  We’ve ridden on long rides before, but never one where I spent the entire six hours riding straight.  By the time we pulled up in front of Shogun’s, I was ready to burst; bathroom breaks were essential, and after riding for forever and a day, I was in major need of one

 

Gabe managed a front row parking spot, and I thanked God for answering my prayers before I pissed my pants.

 

Running into the bathroom, I barely slammed and locked the door before I dropped my pants.  Sighing in intense relief, my eyes rolled back in my head, and I listened to the door slam and two cackling women enter the bathroom.  They sounded snobby, and I was glad I was in the stall and didn’t have to see their faces.  I might have to bitch slap them.

 

Finishing up, I was buttoning my jeans when what they were saying penetrated my brain.  Then I started fuming.

 

“Did you see that trash that came with that hot hunk of man?” Snotty bitch one asked.

 

“Yes.  He could do much better.  Did you see what she was wearing?  You don’t wear that type of outfit out to a nice restaurant.  You wear a dress,” snotty bitch number two countered.

 

“Oh my God.  For real!  She must have a golden vagina to keep him.  She didn’t even have boobs.  I wonder if I gave him my number if he’d call me?”  Snotty bitch number one quipped.

 

Motherfucking son of a bitch.

 

The lock made a sharp clicking sound as I slid it out of the locked position and slammed the door open.  Both girls turned at the sharp sound of the stall door slamming against the wall.  Then both of their eyes widened as they saw me walk out. 

 

Busted.

 

“For your information, I give really good head.  He keeps me around for when he wants me to give him the business,” I said sweetly.

 

I washed my hands while glaring daggers at them.

 

Both girls were frozen, unsure of what to do or say.  They came unstuck when I walked out of the bathroom, swinging the door open so hard that it slammed against the wall also.  I stomped my way back into the main part of the restaurant.  Gabe saw me coming, and instantly took in my expression.  Alarm came over his face, but then settled when he saw the women exiting behind me.  Shaking his head, he looked down to his feet and contemplated his boots.

 

I walked up to stand beside him and watched the two women walk to their prospective dates, and immediately commenced talking shit about me.  I could see the faces of the dates, and each one showed clear disgust.  Their faces became more and more animated before the beefier of the two broke off from the group.  He marched over and tried to stick his finger in my face.  Except he got nowhere close.

 

One second he was marching towards me, and the next he found himself face down on the floor.

 

“I don’t really care what those ladies told you.  You do not come up to my woman threateningly.  If you have a problem, you come to me.  I better not find out you did this to some other woman.  Have some respect man,” Gabe spit, as he pushed off him.

 

He did make sure he kneed him in the kidney first though.

 

Right as he stood up, our buzzer started going off; I grabbed Gabe’s hand and pulled him towards the hostess station.  The hostess gave us a wide berth as she seated us in their most secluded place.  Apparently, she felt a little uncomfortable having us with the general population.

 

Dinner was a success though.  Our first date went off without too many hitches.

 

“I really enjoyed our cook.  He was pretty awesome with his spatula,” I said to Gabe as we made our way outside.

 

“Yeah, that’s cause he thought you were hot, and he gave you more attention than he did anyone else.”

 

Shogun’s was your typical Japanese restaurant.  They seat you around a large flat grilling surface, where the cook takes the orders for everyone that surrounds his station.  He’ll cook everything to your specifications, and entertain you in the process.  My favorite is the onion volcano.

 

“Yea, I’m pretty sure this scoop neck t-shirt and jeans really did it for him.”

 

He stopped abruptly and turned to look into my eyes.

 

“You are a very beautiful woman.  Those women were just jealous of you.  You don’t have to dress up to be the classiest person in a room.  You can pull that off with some yoga pants and a t-shirt.  They’re just jealous bitches who have no place in our thoughts,” Gabe said, before giving me a quick kiss and resuming our trek across the parking lot. 

 

As usual, Gabe moved the bike even though he had a front row parking spot.  He did this for two reasons: One being he doesn’t like to be too close to other cars in case he needs to get out of an area fast; the other being that he doesn’t want anyone touching his bike. 

 

There was one rule among bikers, and that was that the bike was sacred: you don’t mess with other bikes.   Bikers know this, regular people do not.

 

I enjoyed the heck out of our date, snotty bitches or not.  I just wish I’d had someone take a picture of us.  I’d yet to get a picture of the two of us together, mostly because Gabe wasn’t the picture type of person.  Apparently, bad asses were allergic to pictures.  The only ones I ever got were the shots where he wasn’t paying attention.  Also, the ones that he accidentally was flipping off the camera.  It was amazing how often that happened.

 

I was pulled from my thoughts with a jolt, as Gabe sent me careening to the ground.  Gravel dug into the palms of my hands; I looked up just in time to see Gabe plant his booted foot in a man’s face.  Gabe’s foot landed on his jaw with a sickening thud, and the person was down for the count.  That wasn’t the case with the other person.  He’d jumped on Gabe’s back and tried to subdue him with his arm around his neck.

 

Adrenaline was coursing through my veins as I watched Gabe drop his right shoulder and use the attacker’s momentum against him.  Over Gabe’s shoulder he went, and slammed him into the ground.  Gabe went Stone Cold Steve Austin on his ass and power slammed him onto the ground, making his head bounce off the gravel.  One punch to the jaw and the other attacker was down for the count as well.

 

It took all of fifteen seconds from start to finish; which was pretty fucking scary if you asked me.  The amount of strength he had in one hand could probably kill me with one blow like the one he’d just given to the man lying on the ground.  Not that he would ever use that kind of force with me.  Anything he ever did would be a total accident; never would he intentionally hurt me.

 

Gabe scanned his surroundings once more before coming to me.

 

“You okay?”  He asked.

 

He wasn’t winded in the slightest.  His hair was a little out of place, but other than that you would never be able to tell that he just kicked two guy’s asses.

 

I nodded my head, and regarded him.

 

“That.  Was.  Awesome!” I said to him enthusiastically.  “Will you teach me how to do all of that?”                                               

 

“I’ll teach you whatever you want, honey.  Let me see your hands.  Fuck, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean for you to hurt your hands, but it was the fastest way I could get you down.  The little fucker had a fucking tire iron.”  He said while inspecting my bloody palms.

 

A groan sounded from one of the morons on the ground, and Gabe went to them while I called the cops.

 

Gabe was persuasive with his fists, and the man let us in on why he thought it’d be a good idea to hurt us.  Turns out the women from the restaurant told their men that I threatened to ‘hurt them in the worst way’ while we were in the bathroom.  Therefore, the dates decided to take it upon themselves before getting all of the facts.  Now they would be going on a trip to the local slammer, all because they trusted their dates instead of collecting more information.  Pretty sure that was worth it … Not.

 

Flashing lights poured over the shadowed parking lot and my favorite cop was there to check on us.

 

“Everything alright?”  Luke asked as he walked up.

 

“Yeah.  These morons thought they could sneak up on Terminator here.  Little did they know Gabe was going to pull out his bad ass and show it to them.  Gabe did a couple of fancy moves, and, all of a sudden, they were just lying there - out cold.  I think I should have videoed it.  This could’ve been one of those YouTube videos that went viral.  Maybe if we could-” I answered but laughing interrupted me.

 

Both men were looking at me as if I was crazy.

 

Shaking his head, Gabe asked, “What are you doing here, anyway?  Aren’t you a detective or something?”

 

“Something like that.  They let me do what I want.  I heard on the scanner that it was Ember so I came.  Wasn’t too far away.  Got someone watching my girl, and figured I could stop by real quick to check on you both before heading home.”

 

“Luke, if you ever need anyone to watch her, I’m more than happy to do it,” I threw out there.

 

He smiled in appreciation, and then turned back to Gabe.  They spoke for a few more minutes.  Statements were made, and then we headed home.

***

Studying what I had to wear, I settled for some of my old comfy volleyball shorts that were so tight you couldn’t wear anything but a thong with them, and a camisole.  I didn’t like wearing bras, and this was one of my ways around wearing one.  I grabbed one of Gabe’s flannel shirts out of the closet and shrugged it on too.  Gabe kept it like a meat locker in here.  Not one time was the AC set on anything above sixty-eight.  I wasn’t one to complain, so I made sure I always had a blanket or shirt nearby.

 

I walked out of the room and towards the kitchen.  It was time for something to eat.  Grabbing a bag of Chex Mix Muddy Buddies and a coke, I left the room, but instantly turned around when I heard Gabe yell for a beer.  I found myself doing this a lot. 

 

Walking in to the living room, I was immediately assaulted by the sound of gunfire.  Rolling my eyes, I set everything down and sat at the edge of the couch with my ads and my coupon binder. 

 

“What the fuck is that?”  Gabe asked.

 

Looking up I met Gabe’s eyes.

 

“What’s what?”

 

“That.”  He said gesturing to my binder.

 

“This little gem is my coupon binder.”

 

“Why would you need a coupon binder?  Don’t you have a good job?”

 

“Well yeah, now I do, but I didn’t used to.  I had to save any way I could.  I don’t like to touch my inheritance, makes me feel like I exchanged money for their lives.  Anyway, I became engrossed in saving money where I could.  Which, then, turned into an obsession.  I don’t buy anything that’s not on sale.  I price match, and I never pay full price for anything.  Nobody likes to go to the store with me anymore.  They get embarrassed when I pull out my coupons and ads.”

 

“Thanks for the heads up,” Gabe said. “Give me some of those.”

 

I reached for the bag, but found them empty.  Oops.  I’ve been doing that a lot lately.  I’ve been eating like a cow, but still managing to lose weight.  Aces.

 

“Um, no can do.  I ate them,” I said holding up the empty bag.

 

“Wanna play?”

 

“Nah.  I have about three hundred more coupons to cut out.  Thanks for the offer.”

 

“Sniper is behind you, James,” Gabe half yelled.

 

I looked up and saw he was wearing his earphones, and then rolled my eyes.  Whomever they were playing against didn’t stand a chance when the guys teamed up.  Then again, they were probably playing against twelve year olds.

 

I was starting to get hot, which wasn’t that surprising since the flat screen put off so much heat, and I was working my arms out by cutting out all of my coupons.  You wouldn’t think that it would be that hard, but once you hit the hundred mark, your arms start burning.  I pulled the shirt over my head, and tossed it behind me on the couch.  A while later I had all the coupons cut and stacked in neat little piles when Gabe’s voice interrupted me.

 

“Would you get mad if I scattered all of those coupons when I fuck you on the coffee table?”  Gabe asked.

 

Glancing up at Gabe, I noticed that the game was still being played, but Gabe had lost focus.  He was staring at me with an intense expression.

 

“Why do you need to do it on the coffee table?  There’s a perfectly good floor, a recliner, a couch, and a wall just right there,” I noted.

 

He ditched the headphones and controller, and wrestled me to the ground, softly, beneath him, between the coffee table and the couch.

 

“These shorts sure make your ass look great, and this shirt doesn’t cover your nipples very well.  I can see every bump and the outline through the white.  You don’t wear this out in public do you?”  He asked, while leaning down and sucking my nipple through the camisole.

 

I didn’t answer.  His erection was grinding against me and I’d lost all cognitive ability; except for the direct line that led from my hoo-ha to my brain.  I moaned long and loud when Gabe shifted onto his back, taking me with him, and then thrust up while pulling me down onto him.  I threw my head back and savored the feelings that this man always brought out in me. 

 

Distantly, I became aware of yelling in the background, and the sounds of gunshots from Gabe’s game, but paid it no mind as his body did delicious things to my own.

 

Gabe’s hands pulled the camisole down until my breasts popped free, and then sprang up to his forearms and devoured my nipples with his mouth.  I was arching against him, rubbing myself hard against him when he suddenly stopped.

 

I cried out.  However I was instantly appeased when my legs were raised practically over my head, and my shorts torn off.  Gabe’s hands were between his legs, working himself free from his tight jeans. 

 

“I need to be inside you, now,” Gabe said before slamming into me.

 

“Yes,” I moaned out long and loud.

 

This position wasn’t giving Gabe the penetration he wished for, because one second I was on top of him, and the next I was back against the couch with Gabe on his knees pounding inside of me.  I watched as his slick flesh penetrated me in and out.  Each stroke of his cock took me higher and higher.  Watching was making me closer and closer to orgasm, and I reached up and pinched my nipples, adding to the already swirling sensations happening inside of me.

 

“Oh, God.  Touch yourself - I’m not gonna last when you play with your nipples like that.”

 

Complying with his wishes, I left one hand on my nipple while the other snaked down to my clit.  The first touch of my finger, added to the effect of his cock pounding inside of me, started the upward spiral of my orgasm.  Flicking my clit faster, I worked myself quickly.

 

Gabe’s cock hit my cervix with each rough thrust, and I turned my gaze to where we were connected, and lost it.

 

Sensations built inside of me and burst, hurdling me into another mind-blowing climax.  Gabe’s followed shortly after mine, as I continued to watch our connection. 

 

“Like what you see?”  Gabe asked.

 

My eyes flicked to his stare, and then went immediately back to where we were still connected.  Gabe’s erection was still hard, not losing any of its hardness after his climax.  I let my hand travel down from my clit and feel around our connection.  It was amazing that he fit inside of me.  He was so huge, bigger than any man I’d ever seen.  Not that I had much to compare it with, mainly the porn magazines Cheyenne and I used to sneak out of our brother’s room when we were younger and curious. I wasn’t a virgin when Gabe and I got together but I also didn’t have much experience either.

 

“What are you thinking about?”  Gabe asked.

 

“I was wondering if your cock was bigger than most.  I don’t really have much to compare it to, and I was curious.  I was just trying to remember when Cheyenne and I were fifteen and looking at James’ porn magazines.  There weren’t that many penises, because it was a magazine for men, but there were still some in there.”

 

Gabe laughed and gave a little thrust of his hips, sending his cock a little deeper inside of me.

 

“I don’t really know.  Never was the type to compare my dick with friends,” he laughed out.

 

Smiling at him, I said, “I have a ruler in the other room.  Maybe we can measure it real quick.”

 

“Nah.  I have some different plans for you at the moment.” 

 

Then he showed me those plans.  In great detail.