Beg Me

At that moment, my phone vibrates. It’s like clockwork. It moves across the living room table. I grab it and look at the screen.

I smile. “It’s him.”

“Answer it!” she squeals.

“Hell no,” I say. “I’m not about to go down that road with you here.”

The phone stops ringing, but it doesn’t take long for him to shoot me a text. I look down at the screen and it’s a…it’s…

“Oh my God,” Dasha exclaims. “Is that his cock?”

“No,” I shout, shielding the phone. “You’re mistaken. It’s um. It’s a selfie. He sends me those from time to time.”

“Madison, you’re crazy if you think I’m going to believe that lie,” she says. “My daughter hides things from me every fucking day, and she’s much better at it than you.”

I groan and put my face into my hands. Any attempt at blocking out the world right now helps.

“What is even happening?” I ask.

She grabs the phone out of my hands, laughing gleefully, and clicks open the picture. “Do not!” I scream, but she doesn’t care.

She hops out of her seat and runs off to the kitchen, laughing.

“Holy shit,” she says.

“Mommy?” Holly asks.

“Hey, Holly, honey. Can you go play outside for a little bit?” she asks.

If she only knew what grown-ups do on their off days. They drink mimosas and giggle about their man’s cock. I mean, really, what is better than that?

“Okay, Mom,” she says, barely listening. She grabs her dolls and runs outside.

Dasha turns to me. Her jaw drops open, and her eyes turn big. “You let him put that thing inside you?” she asks. “It’s…it’s…it’s beautiful.”

I nod, a little proud of my catch. “It’s a real work of art,” I say. “And yes, he put that thing inside me. Over and over, and over again. Don’t knock it till you try it, Dash.”

“I’m not knocking it, girl. Do you mind if I hang this on my wall? I’m going to run to the printer and blow it up. Everyone needs to see just who is porking my best friend,” she says.

“Ew. Please don’t ever use the word porking in reference to sex ever again.” I laugh, reaching out for my phone. “Give it back. I have to reply now.”

The phone vibrates in Dasha’s hands. “Wait, he just asked if you miss it?”

“Do you miss it?” I repeat his words. “Fuck. I’m doomed. I’m so doomed. This is so weird. Give me back my phone, Dasha!”

“Don’t worry.” She laughs, moving further away from me, transfixed by my phone. “I won’t let you down. I’ll reply for you.”

“No!”

I jump out of my seat. Suddenly, we’re back in middle school, chasing each other around the house because of some boy. Only this guy isn’t some boy. He’s a man with a massive cock. And yes, I do love it.

I grab the phone but it’s too late. The damage is done. I look at the shining screen and it reads, “I need that thing deep inside my throat.”

“Very classy, Dasha. God,” I mutter under my breath.

“Oh, come on,” she says, out of breath and proud of herself. “It’s funny! Plus, I bet you tell him that stuff all of the time.”

“I do not,” I lie.