11 – The ‘I’ is for I Got Porn in my Eye

SPOV

“So…the steak is really good,” I offered, finally breaking the awkward silence that had risen up in between us.

Because an awkward silence was the only thing in between us.

Still sitting in his lap, neither one of us were bringing up the fact I was STILL sitting in his lap.

Or that his hand was lightly resting on my lower back.

Lower back.

Any lower and he’d have a handful of nothing but ass.

My ass.

Thank god he had really big hands.

I had a fair amount of ass.

But, awkward or not, I wasn’t really itching to move into my own seat.

Even if there was maybe another sort of itch I was feeling.

One that needed to be scratched.

Maybe by that hand now absentmindedly rubbing small circles on my lower back.

To start off with, at least.

Bad Sookie! Bad!

I felt like I should probably be embarrassed for dumping my problems onto him, but I only felt relieved. Sharing the weight of one of my many burdens had actually lifted some of it off of me.

I’d had no idea of how he would react, hearing some of my deepest darkest secrets, since I’d only known him for three days.

But dead lifting me out of the chair, with his freakish strength, and wrapping his arms around me had been a definite surprise.

Even more surprising, it wasn’t until that moment that I realized it had been a long long time since I’d been hugged.

But I could remember when.

And who.

As well as why.

But not wanting to fall back down that tear-streaked rabbit hole, I forced the memory and everything else that went with it away, not prepared to deal with it right now.

“It’s the marinade,” he smiled, unwittingly giving me something else to focus on.

His lips.

I. Said. No. Sookie!

“Mmm,” I replied noncommittally, more so because his hand had slipped a fraction lower with his answer than from me wondering what his marinade contained.

He had another kind of juice I was more interested in at the moment.

But with my noncommittal answer, his hand had committed a serious infraction.

Or more like his fingers because they’d flexed against the skin just above my hipbone when I’d hummed.

Holding onto Jason for dear life – because dropping him was a serious concern – I tipped to the side and made a squeal-like noise I would never own up to having come out of my mouth, thanks to him hitting my tickle spot in one go.

Even in the midst of forming the yoga equivalent of a mathematical ‘less than’ sign on his lap, I couldn’t help but try and calculate what the odds would be that he’d be able to find other spots I had on his first try.

My Good Golly Gee spot in particular.

Surely my imagination was greater than the truth.

Surely.

Two thick arms banded around my body before I could tip ass over tea kettle and hauled me – and Jason by default – back up until my back was pressed against his chest.

And I didn’t know if it was hearing the low chuckle right in my ear or the interested sounding words of, “That’s interesting,” coming from him that caused my Carefree panty shield to become less…well, carefree.

If I wasn’t so wet down there we would probably be able to hear Simon and Garfunkel singing their new commercial jingle.

A Bridge Under Troubled Water.

As it stood now, only Aquaman with his undersea auditory superpowers would’ve been able to hear it.

My Wanna Fuck It Bucket was near to overflowing.

But since his movie wasn’t coming out for another couple of years, I had time.

Maybe I could pick up a sump pump for my hump canal the next time we hit up Lowes?

“You’re ticklish,” he announced in a way that was honestly more of a low rumble than actual voice.

It honestly made me concerned it would only take the slightest twitch from me before my twat juice sloshed over the sides of my bucket.

“I am not,” I denied.

My lower half was so wet I had no reason to be concerned a pants-on-fire situation would develop.

And it was getting even wetter now that my lower half was close enough to detect another situation developing.

Or maybe that was where he’d stashed Stan the Stegosaurus?

His pants weren’t on fire, but something hot was going on down there.

Really hot.

“Really?” the devil whispered into my ear.

That was even hotter.

God help me.

Someone needed to because I didn’t have time to wait the two years for Aquaman to hear my bubbling S.O.S., when his voice dropped another octave with his words of, “I’m pretty sure lying to Captain America is considered treason.”

“I’m pretty sure only one of us in this chair actually went to law school. You might want to consult your attorney before you go counting your convictions before their hatched,” I argued back, sounding like a breathy bitch in heat.

If I’d thought to bring my phone with me, I could’ve checked the app that kept track of my periods.

An impending Leak Week could be to blame.

For my earlier breakdown and for how horny I was.

Straightening up only slightly, his voice sounded nearly normal, when he asked, “Hey, Matlock? Is it considered treason to lie to Captain America?”

“Gee, Gomer Pyle. Why don’t you get him here and I’ll find out,” I laughed out.

I’ll find out what’s under his suit.

“What’s under his suit, huh?” he growled.

Holy shit!

Did I say that out loud?

And was that jealousy I heard in his tone?

Holy.

Shit.

Knowing I needed to act fast – before I climbed up and used his body like a see saw to get him onto his back so I could sit on his face – I did the only thing I could do.

I used the cherub looking angel over my shoulder to fend off the devil over my other one, by moving him over and holding him up until Jason’s face was right in front of his own and innocently asked, “You wouldn’t tickle a lady holding a baby, would you?”

Feeling his body slump in defeat, I ignored feeling the one part of him that didn’t – and had only become more pronounced now that the rest of him wasn’t as tense – but any sense of victory I had soon disappeared.

Because the baby soon disappeared from my grasp, just as he said, “Of course not.”

Now firmly holding Jason against his shoulder with one hand, he used the other to launch a tickle attack that had me shrieking like a howler monkey, with him laughing out, “But a lady doesn’t talk about getting into Captain America’s pants.”

He had me there.

He also had me trapped, with his arm locked around my waist, leaving me no choice but to flail around on his lap like a shorter version of one of those inflated air dancing whose-a-ma-whats-its outside of the downtown Chevy dealer.

“I said his suit!” I shrieked out, with the lawyer in me unable to not point out his misstatement of facts.

“What’s under his suit?” he asked, doubling down on his attack when I laughed out, “I don’t know. That’s why I said you should get him here so I can find out!”

My hands were trying and failing to fend off his fingers, but my feet kicked the patio table a good three feet away from us, with our dinner plates rattling across the glass top like an earthquake had gone off.

The earth wasn’t the only thing quaking.

But he didn’t let up until Jason – my dear sweet baby boy, Jason – grabbed two fistfuls of his hair on either side of his head and dropped an open mouthed drool bomb smack dab in the center of his face.

“Ha! In your FACE!” I howled in victory, with outstretched arms, at his baby kiss of defeat.

A victory that was short lived when I slid off of his lap and onto my ass a second later.

Still wiping his face clean, he eventually smirked down at me, with a raised brow.

Perhaps questioning the precarious position of my current location.

In. Between. His. Legs.

The view was mighty fine, I would admit.

To myself.

But unwilling to admit that or much else out loud – again – I straightened my clothes with all of the haughtiness of a Victorian era prima donna before pushing up onto my feet and saying in a mocking tone, “I didn’t even hurt my pride.”

“As long as your pride is intact,” he deadpanned, trying not to laugh at Jason’s persistence in applying enough open mouth kisses to his cheek that his neck and shoulder were now covered in baby drool.

It was a failed attempt when he laughingly barked out in surprise as Jason planted one right over his ear and made his shoulder shoot up involuntarily at the unexpected baby wet willy he’d received.

So I took pity on him – and my panties, considering the damage the sight of the two of them was doing to them – by taking the baby from him, with a cheeky, “Yeah. What he said.”

“What did he say?” he chuckled, tipping his head to one side to let gravity help dislodge the drool from his eardrum, while using a napkin to get the rest. “All I heard was, ‘Aahhh’.”

“That’s baby speak for, ‘Take that!’” I replied in my most ‘duh’ of tones.

But karma paid me back a second later, when Jason made a similar noise right before he spit up partially digested formula all over me.

“You’re right,” he laughed. “That is absolutely what he said.”

“I could use a drink,” I admitted in a grossed out sigh, despite what a bad idea that would probably end up being, and then added, “He could probably use another one too, now that I’m wearing half of his bedtime bottle.”

Looked like I wasn’t the only one who’d been riding on the Captain America coaster.

Why, Sookie?

WHY?

Thankfully the smell of spit up formula helped to keep me from getting too worked up over the thoughts I’d implanted into my brain.

Riding him was the last thing I needed to think about.

Especially now that I had a better idea of how big the Jurassic Park he had going on in his pants was.

WHY, SOOKIE?

WWHHHYYYYYY?!?!?!

“So…” I forced out, blinking forcefully to rid my brain of the impromptu porn flashing behind my eyes. “I’m just gonna go and get us cleaned up.”

“Are you okay?” he smiled, looking concerned.

At least that’s what I surmised in between the short flashes I was able to see of him, thanks to the rapid blinking I was doing.

“Yep, I’m fine,” I said, repeating the same lie as a little while earlier, albeit for a different reason.

And like before, I wasn’t about to tell him the truth.

Telling him I had images of his dick stuck in my mind’s eye wouldn’t do anyone any good.

EPOV

I waited until they were in the house before I dared to stand up.

Given the hard-on I was sporting, it was for the best.

But goddamn

I only had so much restraint.

Thankfully, my zipper had a little bit more than me.

But now that I had the knowledge of what she would look like staring up at me from in between my legs, I didn’t know how much longer my restraint would hold out.

I was only human.

A dirty one, considering all of the fantasies that were playing out behind my eyes of her in the same position, minus the clothes we’d been wearing.

And the baby I’d been holding.

I loved the little guy, but he had a crib and a room with a door for a reason.

Probably not the same ones I was thinking of in that moment, but at least I wasn’t so far gone that I hadn’t at least thought of him.

But needing a reason to get my mind off of getting off with her, I focused on clearing the table from our dinner and carried everything into the house. The cleanup was a relatively quick affair, since I’d cooked on the grill and after loading the dishwasher, I decided to change into the t-shirt and loose fitting sweatpants I’d taken to wearing around the house at night.

After bunking with a bunch of guys for the majority of my adult life, I’d gotten into the habit of sleeping in just a pair of athletic shorts. But after the surprise one-sided tickle war, I didn’t think wearing them now would be a good idea.

If she launched an offensive of her own, my dick could very well decide to make a surprise appearance.

Besides, after her little breakdown earlier, I knew she was probably feeling vulnerable.

The last thing she needed was a dickhead taking advantage of her.

So mine would remain restrained.

Both inner and outer dickhead, that is.

Taking the stairs two at a time to try and burn off some of the pent up energy in my body, I came to a dead stop in the hallway outside of the open bathroom door.

It had only been an involuntary glance. A naturally inquisitive look into the room since the light was on.

I hadn’t expected to see her leaning over the side of the tub, as she washed the baby for the second time that night, wearing nothing but the shorts she’d had on at dinner and a bra.

Simplistic in design and fabric, it wasn’t even one that was meant to be inherently sexy.

So it was just the fact she was wearing it that made it sexy.

God.

Damn.

Turning to face the door, I wondered if I’d said that out loud and she smiled at me, with a look of concern in her eyes.

So I guess it was my eyes that clued her in to her state of undress because hers widened like saucers and she made some sort of ‘eep’ noise, grabbing the towel she’d set aside for the baby and used it to cover the front of her body.

Quickly saving the image to my rapidly growing mental file dubbed ‘Cookie Porn’, it wasn’t the only thing rapidly growing.

Again.

So I was grateful that she closed her eyes, hoping I could get a handle on it – without needing to use my hands on it – when she groaned seemingly to no one in particular, “Why?”

“Sorry, I uh…I just…” I heard myself stammer. “The door was open?”

“Not you,” she whined. “Me.”

Then wrapping the towel around her body, she tucked the end in to keep it in place and turned back to the baby saying, “I know you live here now. I’ve seen you occupying several rooms in the house. I’ve laughed with you. I’ve cried on you. And I nearly emptied my bladder on you at dinner. So why did it completely slip my mind when I peeled off my vomit covered V-neck before giving the baby a bath?”

“Because I was a saint in a former life?”

I was only human.

A part troll one because when her head whipped my way at my teasing quip, her glare disappeared when I whipped my shirt off too and innocently offered, “There. Now you don’t have to feel embarrassed. We’re all shirtless.”

She’d already seen it before.

My bare torso was my contact photo on her phone.

But recalling that little fact made my fingers itch to pull out my phone and reciprocate.

I’d likely spend the rest of my life sending her urgent texts demanding, ‘CALL ME NOW!’

And then spend just as long staring at her picture, while not answering her calls.

It took her a moment – a long one the troll in me wanted to point out – before she turned back to the baby mumbling out, “I really need that drink.”

Laughing all the way to my room, I quickly changed and headed downstairs, smirking at the now closed bathroom door on my way by. I questioned my sanity when I went rooting through her cabinets in search of alcohol because Sober Me was in danger of getting into enough trouble on my own.

So I reasoned that a glass or two wouldn’t hurt because it would take a good amount of alcohol for Drunk Me to make an appearance.

But it didn’t matter anyway because she didn’t even have a bottle of cooking sherry in her cabinets.

So I warmed up a baby bottle instead and went into the living room to wait for her, laughing – so I wouldn’t cry – seeing her come downstairs wearing godawful head to toe footie pajamas covered in My Little Ponies.

The only good thing about them was the zipper that ran from her neck all the way down to her…

“I couldn’t find any alcohol,” I coughed out, trying to rid my brain of all of the ideas her pajamas likely weren’t designed for.

But were giving me anyway.

“Oh yeah,” she sighed out and then shrugged, as she got comfortable and took the bottle from me before putting it into the baby’s mouth. “Another thing I never got around to doing when I moved in. Stock up on wine and tequila.”

Knowing there was something about that time in her life that made her sad to the point of tears, I avoided it like the plague and hoped to keep her in good spirits by playfully pulling on her Pepto-Bismol pink fleece sleeve, reminding her with a smirked, “It’s August, Pinkie Pie.”

My ploy worked because she guffawed, “I can’t believe you know that.”

“I have a calendar on my phone,” I replied, knowing full well she wasn’t talking about the month we were in.

Ignoring my response, she looked suitably scandalized, as she turned to me and joyously accused, “Are you a secret Brony? Do you go to the conventions?”

Gasping, she fell back against the cushions and gleefully breathed out, “Who’s your go to Brony Pony when you dress up? Fluttershy or Rainbow Dash?”

“Pam,” I replied, trying to keep my features stern and not give in to the want to grin like an idiot.

“You dress up like Pam?” she asked, looking both amused and confused.

Pam is why I know who Pinkie Pie is,” I chuckled.

And – sadly – who Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy were.

“Sure,” she nodded, as though I was full of shit. “Pam is why you’re a closet Brony.”

“Treason,” I reminded her with a smirk and a quirked brow.

Which she waved off unconcerned, as she said, “Take it up with your congressman if you want the laws changed, Twilight Sparkle.”

“Fine, Princess Celestia,” I volleyed back.

And then hoping to get her mind off of the My Little Pony kick that I suspected would come back to bite me in the ass at a later – with witnesses – date, I asked, “So what comes after Iron Man 2?”

“HAMMER!” she shouted and then drawled out, “Haaaammeeerrrr!!!

“You want to go back to Lowes?” my inner troll asked and then shrugged, acting like I was going to stand up and said, “If you insist.”

“I will kill you,” she warned. And as if to make her point more pointed, she glared, “For reals.”

“Oh no,” I deadpanned. “Not for reals.”

Matching me in tone, she demanded, “Put my Asgardian Bride into the DVD player before Pinkie Pie is forced to open up a can of whoop ass on My Little Black Ops Brony.”

Seeing the light in her eyes and the smile on her face – ridiculous pajamas or not – I knew I was in for a long night.

And it had absolutely nothing to do with the pile of DVD’s we still had to go through.

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26 comments on “11 – The ‘I’ is for I Got Porn in my Eye

  1. potsiedaisy says:

    Melt… So so sweet!

  2. murgatroid98 says:

    A little more progress has been made. Their banter over the movies is cute. I haven’t seen most of them but that’s okay. Sweet chapter.

  3. lorip100 says:

    Can’t get enough of this story . Love them .

  4. maryalma says:

    Awesome dialog. I’ve been living under a rock (well, restricted to bed or lift chair)for over 13 years so I am out of date on pop culture references, my daughter was a tomboy growing up so I don’t get the pony references, I rarely watch TV but I was a comic book reader as a child and have seen the Marvel Universe movies once they are out on HBO. I grew up in a very tiny rural town (one flashing intersection light!)and devoured the tiny one room public library plus all the school libraries (my mother was the school librarian so I had access to everything)so I had to resort to the comic book rack in the hole in the wall grocery store. I was born in 1960 so no Amazon or Barnes and Noble. I wonder, how does Guardians of the Galaxy fit with the Avengers time line since they had an infinity stone too? Now I have to wiki it.

  5. kleannhouse says:

    oh gods i love these two, where do you come up with the banter it is fucking awesome. you are a goddess with this story. loving it. KY

  6. duckbutt60 says:

    Wow –if only those two would let their “inner voices” outside to play –things would get hot very very quickly!

  7. ashmo2000 says:

    That was a helluva spoiler! What are these two gonna do? Yes, it’s only been three days and they shouldn’t be hording mental porn… The attraction! The overload of sexual tension beating down their eemployee/employer walls is not good for their health or the baby’s health. At. All. Well if they damage him irreparably they’ll both have to bite the bullet and ‘do’ what they have to ‘do’ to replace him. ‘The DO’! WWTCD? What Would The Captain Do? THE! DO! It should be applied to their everyday at-home-lives.
    **This has been a public service announcement of WWTCD? and more importantly The Do**

  8. marilyn81459 says:

    Wow ! Eric is perfecting for her.! I thought we were going to get somewhere .once she was on his lap. But Noooooo ! Love it ! More please

  9. ejb3214 says:

    Seriously love this story!!!

  10. mom2goalies says:

    Must. Not. Eat. Or. Drink. While. Reading. Kjwrit. You’d think I’d know that by now, sigh…
    Awesome chapter as always. Some progress being made. Must go now and clean up mess.

  11. I laughed so hard…I peed my pants!
    Jackie69

  12. mindyb781 says:

    Seriously this is so funny, every chapter . …don’t know how you do it. It’s so funny how the both want to hump each each and where actually in position this time. The water works panties had me rolling with laughter .

  13. jfozz13 says:

    A sump pump for my hump canal? Love it 🤣 You come up with the best phrases ever. I wish I could share your brain, or get drunk with you. And we’d laugh and laugh.
    Blessings

  14. Tree says:

    Jeebus! Best. Nicknames. Ever!!! My Little Black Ops Brony and My Fuckit Bucket…lord… If I ever win powerball, I will pay you to quit your job to write full time. 🙂

  15. fanficglo says:

    Love the sexual tension! I hope Pam shows up soon to stir shit up!

  16. nicolle1977 says:

    These two are adorable, I need more. Bring on the tequila and maybe he can get some info from Pam.

  17. switbo says:

    These two are so awesome. I love all the marvel references, but they’re inner monologues are just cracking me up. And Oh. My. God. The UST is through the roof.

  18. fffbone says:

    How long can they go on? She is sitting on his lap ! He’s rubbing her back! Tickling is involved. OMG !

  19. This is so funny. I am looking forward to more.

  20. askarsgirl says:

    The fact that Eric knows the names of the My Little Ponies is just too frickin hilarious! And I love how Sookie becomes clothing challenged when Eric is around. This story is so awesome, just likes its Maker😃

  21. luvvamps says:

    This is awesome! That is all I can say tis time.

  22. redjane12 says:

    Drink up kids… You will have so much fun…

  23. gb says:

    Sheesh she has better restraint than I would..

  24. bim2013 says:

    Priceless phrases and its soooo deliciously fun seeing which of sookie’s dirty thoughts slip out into actual speech… Thanks kj you are The Best.

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