Oops, I've Fallen
September 17th, Thursday
Carly
Every time I shift, walk, or do pretty much anything, I’m reminded of last night.
It’s been less than twelve hours since Ryan was inside me, since he ate my pussy until I had so many orgasms, I felt like I had been transported to another realm, but the sensation of his mouth on me, of his cock filling me up, is still there.
“What sounds good to you, darlin’?” Sal asks, reaching out his hand to gently place it over the one my mother has sitting beside her menu.
I can’t deny my current situation is a very strong deterrent to allowing my mind to spend hours upon hours replaying my sexcapade with Ryan. Lunch at the clubhouse with the two geriatric potheads doesn’t leave much room to think about anything else besides keeping their usually crazy asses in line.
“I don’t know, Sally,” she responds and grins at him from across the table. “But I’m starving.”
“Me too.” He smirks back at her. “Feel like I could eat one of everything off the menu and still not be satisfied.”
“Maybe you’re both so hungry because you were toking it up last night like Snoop Dogg,” I comment, and my mom completely ignores the point of my statement.
“You know, ever since he started collaborating with Martha, I really like that Snoop Doggie.”
I roll my eyes. “Nice deflection, Mom.”
“What? Don’t tell me you’re still mad about me smoking a little weed with Sal.”
“I know Ryan sure as shit is,” Sal grumbles. “Gave me the silent treatment all goddamn morning.”
“Well, considering it just happened last night, I think the normal time frame to be mad is still active,” I state, and my mom sighs.
“Again, honey, it was just a little weed. No big deal.”
“You do realize that it’s still illegal to smoke weed in Florida, right?”
“Minor details.” She waves me off. “And when did you become such a stickler for abiding by the law? I recall a time when I had to bail you and your girlfriends out of jail because you decided streaking across the field during the homecoming football game was a good idea.”
“I was seventeen, Mom. Everyone does crazy shit when they’re seventeen,” I toss back. “And I’m pretty sure Betty Matthews wouldn’t consider it minor details if she caught you two passing a doobie back and forth.”
“Betty Matthews needs to take that giant stick out of her ass. And, truthfully, a little Mary Jane would do her some good. That woman is wound so tight, it has to be bad for her health.”
I sigh and start to resume my lunch menu browsing, but Sal’s next question grabs my attention right quick.
“Speaking of ole Betty…” He pauses and grins like the Cheshire cat. “Did you hear what happened to Nan’s yard?”
Oh, here we go… I should’ve known gossip at Sunny Creek traveled faster than a damn Kardashian sex tape on the internet.
“What do you mean?” Stella tilts her head to the side. “What happened?”
“Someone pranked her. Threw toilet paper all over the damn lawn. Word on the street is they even made a big outline of a dick and balls right in the center, just behind those stupid begonias she goes on and on about.”
“What?” My mom’s face looks like a cartoon character—jaw dropped and eyes big and wide and comically surprised. “You’re joking.”
“No, darlin’,” Sal responds. “When I called Mrs. Dickens this morning to check on Tommy, she gave me all the details. When she had to take little Toby out in the middle of the night, she caught sight of Betty and Nan damn near getting into a fistfight over the whole shebang.”
Damn you, Mrs. Dickens. Besides Ryan and me, I thought Betty and Nan were the only ones who actually knew about our little TP prank last night. I mean, once he’d finished working my body over like a fucking orgasm expert and we were just lying in bed half drunk off sex and euphoria, the guilt of thinking about Nan having to clean up her own yard became too much for Ryan to bear.
And since I was too blissed out from the things his wicked tongue and big cock had managed to do to me, I didn’t refute when he said we needed to get out of bed at four in the morning and clean it all up.
Which we did. Not a single square of toilet paper was left behind.
But what we didn’t do was take Mrs. Dickens’s chihuahua Toby’s bathroom habits into consideration.
Stella remains shocked to silence for a good twenty seconds, but then, once realization really settles in, loud, obnoxious cackles follow. “Oh my goodness, Sally! I think that’s the best news I’ve heard all day!”
“Was for me, too.” Sal smiles at my mother’s enjoyment.
“W-ho d-did it?” she asks through another bout of laughter. “Also, I demand that we make a pit stop at Nan’s after lunch. I have to see this.”