Coddiwomple

by S.E. Harmon

I huffed. I mean, what the hell were those, anyway? Boy shorts? Why would someone wear such a thing? Probably to make some poor loser stare desperately at your ass. I stared desperately at that ass.

I was a little stunned. I couldn’t believe Journey was serious about going home with me for a quick round, or two, of hot, sweaty, headboard-banging sex. I mean, he didn’t use any of those adjectives, but I could connect the dots. Right now, those mental dots looked like tiny dicks, which was probably not normal.

“No,” I finally burst out. My dick nearly had a coronary and demanded answers immediately. Forgive me because my hearing is a little blocked by your tighty-whities, but did you just turn down sex with your smoking hot ex?

“You know what they say about all work and no play. It gives you the most horrific boner all day.”

I crushed my mouth to his with zero finesse. He made a startled little noise, his hands flying up to my arms, but he didn’t push me away. Instead, we used grizzly bear rules: when someone mauls you, you maul ’em back.

At one point, I went full-on crazy and dragged out the steam mop. I didn’t know much about having casual sex, but I knew a steam mop wasn’t supposed to be involved.

It was like he realized our time together was almost up and he was trying to get as much action as he could before then. He was storing me up, like a sexual camel.

I took him on the kitchen island because it’s my house and I can be freaky if I want to. Then again in my bed because I was old and fucking on marble wasn’t all that comfortable. The angle was all wrong and kneeling on a barstool wasn’t safe.

I glanced around at the kids walking along beside me, chattering and whining about being too hot. Fuck, that was a lot of witnesses to bribe. I had to save my money for me and Raisin now because life on the lam wasn’t cheap.