Page 16 of Knocked Up

Faster and harder, in and out, thrust after thrust, I drag my hand up her back and grip her hair, tugging as I work.

“Oh fuck,” she moans deeply, and I take that as permission to tug harder.

A bead of sweat runs down the side of my face, and though I’m trying desperately not to come, it’s an impossible task.

The sound of her pleasure and the slapping of my balls, the salty scent in the air, her soft skin, her tight channel. It’s too fucking much.

“Be a good girl and come on my cock,” I groan, trying to slow my thrusting. “I need it! Give it to me!”

“Cyrus,” she puffs, staring back at me through the reflection, “I…” Her mouth hangs open in suspense as her pussy clenches down on my cock and her head tilts back. “Oh my God…” Her soft frame trembles and shakes as an orgasm rolls over her thick frame, taking my cock with it.

Maybe a better man would hold out and let her enjoy the ride she’s on. Maybe he’d pet her slowly and kiss her gently. Maybe he’d have nice things to say. Me, I can’t think straight. I’m a fucking mess. I thrust harder than ever, desperation taking over as I come.

Oh fuck… it’s been a while. A long while. My arms go numb first, then my shoulders, and then my back before an electric buzz spreads down my spine leaving me light-headed.

“Fucking hell, you felt good,” I groan, pushing the last bit of seed I have left inside of her. “I don’t want to let go.”

“Then don’t. Let’s go lay in bed until the baby’s born.” A soft smile lifts onto her face, and I can’t help but smile back.

For decades, I’ve been busy running a business, living alone, convincing myself that life made more sense without a partner. Now, I can’t even fathom that concept, and I’ll never go back to my old life again.

Epilogue

Grace

Two Weeks Later

Mrs. Robinson twists a strand of her gray hair as she stares at me from across her dining room table where a bowl of fruit sits between us. We’ve never spent time together before, but she’s a lovely woman with a bright smile and a tapestry of wrinkles that tell the story of her life. Apparently, she’s had generations of family come through the area and she’s considered a town jewel. “I think we should build the playground in my backyard.”

“Your backyard?”I narrow my brows, suddenly unsure of the mental state of the woman everyone seems to love. “Wouldn’t that be awkward for you if people were just showing up whenever?”

“Oh no, honey. I love watching kids play, and this way you won’t have that grumpy officer who runs the town planning bothering us about where we end up. Also, we could jazz up my garden and compete with the community garden at the church. Kids love getting their hands dirty.” She stares toward Cyrus, who’s sitting in on the meeting for moral support. “We could also do fishing competitions. My house backs right up to the river. Maybe my youngest son would be interested. He’s a big fisherman. Loves pike and trout, and he’s got loads of tips to give.”

When I don’t say anything right away, Cyrus glances toward me. “I like the idea, but we should think about it for a bit. Why don’t we call you back in the morning.”

“Of course, honey. Of course.” Mrs. Robinson stands, showing off a long flowing dress with bright pink flowers adorning the sleeves. I have to say, the woman has a vibe. “You take your time. I know you’ve got your hands full with a new baby and all. How is he?”

I smile and tuck my hand into my husband’s. “He’s doing really well. He sleeps through the night, so… I’m not sure we could ask for more.”

“Well, that’s good, dear. Babies are unpredictable. My boys were good for the most part, except for when it came to toilet training.” She leans in and rolls her eyes. “Prepare yourself for that. Boys have hoses and they like to use them… everywhere.”

I laugh as I try and imagine our sweet little boy peeing all over everything in a few years. Right now, it’s hard to fathom. He’s still so little and sweet. “Something to look forward to, I guess.”

Mrs. Robinson nods thoughtfully and shuffles toward the front door of her house. It’s a cute Queen Anne, complete with front porch rockers and a white picket fence. Truthfully, it’s an adorable spot for a playground. “I’ll talk to you both tomorrow. Be safe getting home.” She opens the front door, inviting in the mid-afternoon sun.

When we’re back at the truck driving home, Cyrus lands his hand on my thigh, squeezing gently. “So, what do you think?”

“I don’t hate the idea. In fact, I’m kind of obsessed with it. We could call the place ‘Grandma’s Playground.’I mean, isn’t she like the pseudo town grandma for everyone, anyway?”

Cyrus grins. “She’d love that. I know she wanted grandbabies, but I’m not sure her sons ever got married. Last Iheard they left for jobs in Wyoming or California or something. They come home a few times a year but I’m sure she wished it was more.”

“How many kids does she have?”

“Two or three. I can’t remember. Her husband died a few years back. They were together since high school. I think one of the boys wanted her to move out of Rugged Mountain to live with him, but she couldn’t leave all the memories here.”

“I get it. I thought the same thing when we decided to get married on that property. There’s so much history there now and it’s only been a couple of weeks. I mean, our spontaneous little wedding in a field of wildflowers, bringing Owen home, the work you’re doing on the back deck, and the millions of other things we’ll do there. I couldn’t leave either. The memories are in everything we’re building.”

He shifts gears with his opposite hand, so he doesn’t have to let go of my thigh. “I like having the memories right there on that little piece of land with you. It’s everything I ever wanted.”

---