Page 91 of Scoring Chance

“We’re having a wedding?”

He pleads the fifth by kissing me hard and quick, priming both our pumps. We make our way back into the bedroom and fall back on the bed.

Des, on top of me, those soft lips kissing down my neck. Our cocks rub against each other through our pants. I can feel how hard he is. Hard for me. I melt to his touch.

“You’re wearing too many clothes. Let’s do something about that.” Des takes his torturous time unbuttoning my shirt. His warm hands glide over my chest, across my light dusting of hair.

He kisses between my pec muscles down my stomach. My cock strains against my underwear and pants, begging to be free.

“Daddy.”

I jolt up. It’s not Des calling me daddy. It’s one of my actual kids.

“Daddy, my tummy hurts,” Lulu whines.

The doorknob twists open, and I work in record fast time to button up my shirt. Des sits on the edge of the bed, his legs crossed, face red from what must be a tight squeeze.

Lulu shuffles in, half-asleep. I pull her onto my lap.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? You have a tummy ache?”

She nods yes and crumples into a sob. I hug her to my chest while Des rubs her back.

“I think you ate too much junk food at the carnival. Didn’t I tell you that eating all that cotton candy would give you a tummy ache?”

She doesn’t answer, but continues crying. She hasn’t fully grasped that her actions have consequences. Though to be fair, neither have most adults.

“Maybe some ginger ale could help settle your stomach,” I say. I rock her in my lap. “How does that sound?”

“Okay,” she says into my chest.

“Uncle Des will get you some.”

Des holds up the one minute finger. He points to his crotch, apparently wishing ginger ale could settle that, too.

“Don’t worry. Uncle Des is going to go real soon to get you some ginger ale.”

Lulu whines in pain. She looks up, her big eyes all red with large tear drops. “Daddy, can I sleep with you tonight?”

I swivel my head to Des, and we silently commiserate. Looks like sex is off the table for tonight.

He hops off the bed, jeans nice and flat. “One ginger ale coming up.”

“Could you put it in my Bluey cup? With a straw?” Despite being horribly sick, Lulu still remains a girl who knows what she wants.

“Are you sure you still want all this?” I whisper to him.

He winks at me, a security blanket if I ever needed one. “Oh yeah.”

26

DES

Iwake up the next morning on the downstairs couch. Wake up is a generous word for the shitty sleep I got. It was more like long stretches of closing my eyes. Lulu got sick in Tanner’s bed, so I helped change the sheets and put in a fresh load in the never-ending laundry cycle. I stayed downstairs so as not to wake Lulu by trying to slide back into bed.

I sit up from the couch, my back practically reconfigured thanks to the evil springs of the pull-out. Despite being tired and sore, I can’t stop thinking about a different fresh load. The one I was supposed to put inside Tanner last night.

Tiredness is no match for horniness.