Light glowed in the sheers at the far window, glowed in a hazy parallelogram on the hardwood floor several feet from the bed. Had there been a cat in the residence, it would have been sunning itself here; perhaps someday one would. For now, the shape only crept around the edge of a round rug and mounds of discarded clothes. The ambient radiance spread throughout the bedroom, bringing out the warm amber hues of the untreated walls, all of which conspired to bring out the warmer hues of the sleeping couple on a large, bedraggled bed. One muscular man lay spread-eagled, creamy and chunky; against him curled a curvy, caramel-colored woman, resting her head on his stony bicep. Sheets were tugged at corners or kicked aside; stains had dried up hours ago.
Bruce was the first to awaken, when the tilt of his head upon the pillows gently clenched his throat shut. He stopped breathing for a few seconds, then abruptly gasped and gulped air down deeply. His eyes snapped open and he looked around the room, immediately conscious of the sweet weight upon his arm. “What time is it,” he muttered. He glanced at the bright window, then swung his heavy head around to look for his phone. His cargo shorts were probably still folded up in the bathroom, from when he’d snuck past his sleeping girlfriend to hose himself down after construction. Whispering an apology to Miranda, he slipped his arm out from under her head in one steady move and packed up the space with pillows. She only mewled before going right back into deep sleep. Bruce tumbled off the side of the bed and padded heavily to the bathroom, checked his phone—8:45 a.m., later than usual but not wasting a lovely Saturday—then went downstairs, buck nekkid, to start some coffee.
Missing her personal space heater, Miranda groped around for blankets while half-asleep. She was lying on them, and rolling over to tug them free was too laborious a task for so early in the morning, so she pulled Bruce’s share over herself. He wasn’t using them, and when he came back from the bathroom he wouldn’t need them. She drew a long, comfortable sigh and tucked her hands under the pillows, bunching them around her pretty head. The lightshow was going on behind her back, so she could still pretend it was dark enough to steal another hour of sleep. She kinda felt like she had to go to the bathroom, but not bad enough to bother about; anyway, Bruce was in there, and taking his time about it. He was probably going to stink it up badly… pouting, she nuzzled her head into the pillows and went back to sleep.
The fancy coffee maker required some practice on Bruce’s part, but he wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. He knew that Miranda loved her fancy, frou-frou coffee, and he was determined to learn to make it for her. Turned out, the trickiest part was buying the right roast of beans and keeping the grinder on an ideal setting. After that, their high-end coffee maker took care of everything else. He folded his arms and looked at the kitchen in progress: the linoleum had all been torn up except for under the heavy appliances. The wallpaper would have to go, and he’d lose a day to sanding the room down, but if the bedroom looked so good with simple sunlight bouncing off the wood, then the kitchen could really light up and feel cheery. Yes, he thought about these things, though he couldn’t share that with Miranda, not in those words. A pretty girl like that needed a strong man of few words, not some blubbering bleeding-heart in touch with his emotions. Not like her last guy, who used emotional availability to fuck anything on two legs. Bruce frowned deeply. Why did Ricky come to mind? He couldn’t forgive that prick for hurting Miranda, and… he just disapproved of how Ricky conducted himself in general. Not manly, and somehow using that not-manliness to get laid a lot. It was wrong, it didn’t make sense.
The coffee maker beeped at the completion of a stage, so Bruce pushed away from the counter with a grunt, picked out a bright, flowery mug for his girlfriend, and poured in a shot of Madagascar vanilla syrup, then went to the fridge for her flavored creamer. He wouldn’t have recommended such a heedless calorie-bomb like this for anyone, but Miranda wore it well, so don’t fix what ain’t broke, he figured.
She heard him come up the stairs, pounding the vintage steps with his heavy heels. She smiled to herself, easily picturing him as a mountainous giant storming across the countryside. So big and powerful, muscles like cleaved rocks, an expression like a thunderhead. That was Bruce, all right. So big and hard, scooping up villagers’ huts in his mighty hands, roaring loud enough to shake the trees. She hadn’t realized she’d fallen asleep again until the mattress sagged behind her.
“Wakey-wakey,” her boyfriend purred gruffly. She smelled something warm and sweet, so she rolled partially to reward him with a childishly happy smile. He was holding a colorful mug. “I made your favorite,” he said, “and I didn’t screw it up this time.”
Gosh, he could be so sweet! “I don’t wanna get up just yet.” Her voice was creaky with deep slumber. “Put it on the nightstand, I’ll get it in a minute.” She heard him chuckle, heard the ceramic mug clunk upon the wooden table, felt his big, strong hand squeeze her buttock. She loved being admired and gave her hips a little wiggle.
“What the fuck is that?!”
His booming voice shocked every nerve throughout her body. Instantly awake, she tried to sit up, but once again Bruce’s grip locked on her hips and held her down. “What’s going on, honey? Let me up. You scared the shit out of me.”
“Not quite, though this looks like something that needs to get flushed down. What the fuck…” She couldn’t see his face: he was now kneeling on the floor, and she could feel his hot breath against her bottom. He was investigating something, but she couldn’t AW FUCK ME! She successfully jerked from his grip, or he released her when he rose to tower over the bed. “Are you fucking kidding me? How long have you been cheating on me?”
Now it felt like someone flushed her bloodstream with ice water. “Baby, I would never! What are you talking about.” Her voice faltered because she knew exactly where this was going.
“All right, you wanna play dumb? I’ll treat you like a fucking idiot. You’ve got a tiny little ex-boyfriend sticking out of your ass.” He folded his arms. “I fucking dare you to tell me you don’t know anything about that.”
She scooted away from him, into the half of the mattress where he slept. “All right, listen, baby. Just calm down and let’s talk about this.”
“How long have you been cheating on me?”
“I haven’t, I haven’t, I—”
“How long have you been fucking around on me?” His voice grew louder, harsher. “And with that fucking scumbag you cheated on you! Not even an upgrade.”
As much as she wanted to call him out on that toxic perspective, she knew now wasn’t the time for a deflection. “No, listen, honey. Listen to me, the whole thing’s a big accident.”
He laughed like two shotgun blasts. “Oh, really? You didn’t know that your ex-boyfriend scumbag was shrunken down when you shoved him into your ass? Or did he just crawl inside without your permission?” He scowled at the picture that created and knelt on the mattress, reaching for her. “Get back here. I’m gonna yank that creep outta there.”
“Get away!” Miranda covered herself in the blanket; Bruce easily whipped it away. She realized she’d kept her T-shirt on all night and now it smelled musty. Her stupid pajama bottoms were probably around his feet right now. She didn’t like how exposed she felt, even if Bruce was her boyfriend and her lover. Now she had a secret in her ass, and the way his shouldered bunched up, it looked like he’d go through her to get at it. “Bruce, what are you going to do to me? Don’t hurt me!”
The hulking blond paused mid-crouch. “I’m… not going to hurt you. I wouldn’t do that. But come on, you’re cheating on me.”
“Then what’s that little fucker doing in your asshole?”
She smiled and bit her lip. “Not doing the tango, I can tell you that.”
His face reddened and he reached for her again; she jerked back and stood back from the bed. “Keep your hands off me, Bruce. Quit grabbing for me.”
“Goddamn it, Miranda, quit fucking with me. I went and made your favorite coffee and everything.” He looked back at the mug. It stood by itself on a narrow nightstand, pert and oblivious to the drama it had been brought into. “You wanna talk about feelings? You want a touchy-feely guy who talks about feelings? Fine. It hurts my feelings when you fuck around on me behind my back.”
“My feelings are hurt when you cheat on me. I feel wounded when you cheat on me with the fuckwad who cheated on you. Wounded and betrayed. Yeah… yeah. I feel like I’ve been trying to build a nice life together with you, and then you go and pull this shit on me.” His face returned to a calmer hue, though his expression was that of deep concentration, and he took a relaxed perch upon the mattress. “The fact that I came up here and found that little fuckwad in your asshole tells me one of two things.”
He stared at Miranda; she had nothing to say, stunned that it took an event like this for him to make such an emotional leap.
“Either you fucked me last night and then stuck him in your ass sometime between then and now, or you had him in your ass while we were making love. While we were making love,” he said louder, when she made a move as though to speak. “And I can’t imagine why. I know you like to tell me how dull and unimaginative I am, but yeah, I’m really scraping now. I cannot imagine why you would make love to me and then immediately stick that little piece of shit up your butt—goddamn it, this is a fucked up conversation—and I can’t imagine why you’d stick your asshole ex-boyfriend up your butt and then make love to me.” He spread his arms. “You satisfied? You win. I’m a stupid, slow-witted, unimaginative fuck, because I cannot come up with a good goddamn reason why you’d do something so seriously fucked up and sick.”
Miranda pressed her palms against her temples, knotted her fingers deep in her hair. There way no way out of this. She glanced at the mug of coffee, needing it now more than ever; she wondered if the love Bruce had put into it would curdle in her stomach. Maybe her body would reject it, undeserving…
Time for the big guns. She let her arms hang by her sides, shoulders slumped. “Bruce, honey. You know I would never do anything to hurt you.” Her brown eyes glowed in the morning light, extra wide, and she turned her whole body directly to him. Rumbled bed-head, black T-shirt, the valley of two plump thighs: she was as sexy and vulnerable as she could muster.
Her boyfriend’s jaw worked a couple times, but he had nothing to say. He shook his head, stared at her again, and his set shoulders sank out of formation. One hand raised, trying to bring up an old point, but it flopped back to the sheets. His brow knitted deeply, evidence of the battle between indignation and wanting to fuck her again; if she didn’t lay it on too thick, she knew which would win. Just a little sweetness, unlike her coffee cooling on the nightstand…
“I still don’t understand,” he said slowly. He straightened up to a civilized seated position, losing the predatory crouch.
Miranda nodded and climbed onto the other side of the bed. “I know, it’s fucked up. I don’t even really know how it happened, except I do. It’s not a great reason, though.”
“Tell me. I really need to understand this.”
“I will, but…” She nodded at the coffee. He started for a moment, then reached back, took it up easily between a few fingers, and stretched to hand it to her. It smelled great, but it was only too easy to hold in her palms. Damn. “Well, the truth is that I had a little surprise for you. An expensive surprise, and Ricky fucked it up.” She furrowed her brow and pouted. “I got you these special pills… I dunno, I just thought it’d be fun. It’s stupid.”
When she looked away, he leaned over to catch her gaze again. “It’s not stupid. You got me something? What kind of pills? Like molly?”
“No, like… well, shrinking pills.”
“What? No such thing.”
“I mean, obviously they work…”
She watched several emotions float over Bruce’s countenance like clouds upon a mountain peak. “Holy shit. I didn’t know they could… but why would I want that?” His gaze wandered, his face scrunched up. “Why in the world would I want that? Even if it could work, why would I want that? Shit, that sounds scary. You could step on me or something and wipe me out like a bug, without even thinking about it. Shit, that’s fucking scary. No, no. Why would I want that?” He gave her the strangest look as he crept away from her.
“No, baby, think about it for a second. Okay?” She took a long drag on the warm coffee. Damn, he made it perfectly; it would’ve been spectacular ten minutes ago. “It’s just like… everything you like about me, there’s more of it. You know?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You could bite me in half and throw me away. Fuck!”
“Bruce, come on. Just listen. I wouldn’t bite you in half, but I could give you the best blowjob of your life. Think about it.” Slowly she licked her sugary coffee off her full lips. “Think about this tongue, squirming between your thighs, right? I could hold you in my warm, soft hand like a little doll. I’d spread your little legs apart, and I’d come in for a big kiss, right on your…” She pushed her lips into a thick O and bent her head toward her empty palm, staring at him with doe eyes. “Think about how your big cock would feel in here, between these.” She smooched her hand, followed it up with long, languid licks over her skin.
“Oh, crap.” Bruce’s chest shuddered with a long breath. “That… that actually sounds…”
“Uh-huh, and then think about this tongue all-ll-ll over your body…” She took a sip of her coffee and dribbled just a little into her palm, giving herself something to lap up with enthusiasm. It was ridiculous, but by the big lug’s expression, it was spellbinding too. “Would you like that? Being so tiny and helpless in your girlfriend’s hand, while she licks you up like candy?”
He puffed out his cheeks. “Holy shit. This is, like, waking something up inside me. I never would’ve thought of… How you’d think of it? Is this something you’re into?”
“M-m-m-maybe.” She slowly licked her fingers for effect. “And you know how you’re always trying to fuck me up the butt? And I won’t let you because you’re too big?”
His expression darkened, the topic having come back around to the erstwhile rival.
“Think of what you could do at that size.” She reached out to pet his hand on the bed. Veins rolled under her fingertips, and his tendons were like a row of iron bars. “Think about how big and round my butt would look to you, at that size. I could sit on you, but very gently, right? Very gently. I could hover right above you and just let you admire me. You could bounce around on my butt like a trampoline.”
“Like a bouncy castle?”
She giggled and gave him an admiring look. “Yeah, exactly! Wouldn’t that be fun? And when you were all tuckered out, you could just lie down between my cheeks and take the coziest nap you’ve ever had in your life. Or, you know, if you wanted to…”
“Well, at that size… you wouldn’t be too big to, you know…”
The corner of his mouth tugged upward. “You’d let me fuck your butt?”
“I might not even feel anything. You could have the time of your life.”
“Oh, I’d make you feel it. I’d give you such a pounding.”
“Yeah, but at that size, what seems like a real pounding to you is just, I dunno. Like a shy person tapping on my shoulder.”
He sat back. “Whoa. I guess that’s right.”
“So, doesn’t this sound good to you?”
“When you put it that way…”
She grinned and reached up to rub his shoulder. Like carved marble, goddamn. Maybe he’d feel like a die-cast iron action figure at that size, and if so, what would he feel like inside… “Hey, baby, you wanna make me another coffee? I gotta take care of some business but I’ll be right down.”
His smile was wolfish, his teeth were big and strong and white. “I have a better idea. Why don’t you let me go down on you first?”
She blink-blinked. Bruce never wanted to do that. “You sure? I mean, right now? Don’t you wanna—”
“You got me in the mood, lover. I want a face full of your pussy right now.” It was his turn to spill his thick, writhing tongue from between his strong lips.
The warm, gooshy tingle built up in her hips. If he was serious about that… but no, she had another concern. “Let me go to the bathroom, hon, just five seconds and I’ll be right back.”
“Uh-uh, right now. And don’t bother lying on your back for this one.” Before she could argue, he practically picked her up and spun her around, handling her as easily as a large doll. She found herself on her knees with her face in the pillows. He dug his iron grip into her hips and there was no arguing with that.
“Baby, just let me get that little pest out of my butt.”
“Nuh-uh. Keep him in there: it’ll help me imagine what it’ll be like for me. It’s hard for me to wrap my mind around, but seeing him there like that”—he dug his thumbs into her butt crack and peeled her cheeks apart as though prying a pumpkin open—“helps give me some, whaddya call it, perspective. Yeah.”
The tingly feeling was replaced with a sick feeling in her tummy. “Baby, don’t hurt him. I know he’s a little shit, but he’s helpless right now. It’d be murder.”
“Don’t worry” was all she heard, before a thick, wide, hot tongue pasted itself over her labia and lapped up the juices thus summoned.