Puzzle

byCal Y. Pygia©

Women. There's no figuring them. They're a puzzle, one of life's mysteries, and that's a fact. Who knows what goes on in their brains, or whether they even have brains? I mean, what rational creature would get excited over Valentine's Day? Could any holiday be more obtuse?

Like your bitch, mine's a sucker for the hearts and flowers, chocolates and greeting cards, and she expects something on Valentine's Day. If I forget to buy her something, it means I'm taking her for granted, or so she tells me, and, believe me, you don't want to be around any woman who feels she's being taken for granted. So, every February 14th, I get her something.

I'll say this much for Blanche. It doesn't take a lot to make her happy. She's one of those bitches who believes it's the thought that counts. The first time I heard her say that, I was sure she was being sarcastic, but, no--can you believe it?--she was being sincere! This was my ticket. I could buy her some piece of junk, and she'd be happy as long as I remembered to get her something.

Last Valentine's Day, though, I almost fucked it up. I almost forgot to get something. I was in an "adult store," as they started calling porno places a couple of decades back, when I remembered Blanche. There was this stacked bitch on the cover of Shemale Express that looked enough like Blanche to be her sister. Big boobs with puffy nipples, a great ass, long legs, and the cutest little cock and balls I've ever seen--better, even, than Blanche's own, and, believe me, that's saying something. Anyway, remembering Blanche, I also remembered that tomorrow was Valentine's Day and I hadn't bought her something. Blanche is as lusty as she is busty, and she loves it down the throat or up the ass or, even better, both, but, when it comes to Valentine's Day, she has to get something she thinks is "cute" or "romantic" or, even better, both. In the past, I've bought her roses, chocolates, perfume, jewelry, and all that crap, but there sure as hell wasn't anything like those items in the damned porno palace. Mostly, there were videos, DVDs, magazines, adult novelties, toys--the regular run of merchandise for horny middle-aged men. I thought maybe Blanche might like a sex board game. I was weighing this option when I saw the earrings, and I knew at once that they'd be perfect.

I took my selection to the high counter at the front of the store where a wizened old clerk stared at me as if I were a cockroach that had somehow evaded the exterminators. Ignoring him, I set my purchase on the countertop and paid the asshole. The clerk shook his head. Then, he shrugged.

I snatched my bagged purchase from the worn countertop and hastened out of the store, thinking the place had seen the last of me. I hurried across the street, where I'd seen a Hallmark Greetings store and bought a Valentine's Day card to go with my present. I also bought some gift wrap with which to wrap my present, some shit decorated with naked, winged Cupids shooting arrows into pink Valentine's hearts trimmed in lace. The clerk suggested fancy pink bows, so I added them to the rest.

We went to a candlelight dinner on an outdoor patio. A waterfall cascaded down a stone wall to our left, and a fountain spewed water on our right. Romantic music played, and we could look up at the star-studded sky. The table was set with fine china, gleaming silver, crystal goblets, and linen napkins. It was depressing as hell, but, I told myself, the holiday came only once a year and, by keeping Blanche happy, she'd be glad to suck and fuck, which is about all anyone can expect from his girl.

After we finished eating, Blanche wanted to talk, but I shut her up by presenting my gift.

She took one look at the fancy bows and the Cupid wrapping paper and her heart melted. She gasped, making an "O" with her mouth that made me want to put my dick in her face, and her eyes moistened. "Oh, Rick!" she cooed.

I was afraid she'd want to start yapping, so I suggested that she open the gift.

When she did, the waterworks really started. Sobbing, she told me how much she loved the present. I knew she was mine to do with as I pleased for at least a week. I smiled. "Put them on, darling," I suggested.

She lifted her fingers to her ears, and, within seconds, she'd inserted the earrings through her lobes. Digging through her purse, she asked, "How do they look?"

"Beautiful."

She found the item she was looking for, and withdrew a compact from her purse, opening its lid to gaze into the small mirror mounted inside. She looked at the earrings, and smiled the broadest smile she'd ever smiled. She was mine for a month, I thought. "They're perfect!" she cried.

I answered her smile with one of my own as I envisioned her naked in bed, nipples jutting from her puffy areolas and her cute little cock standing stuff and swollen from her hairless groin. First I'd fuck her tight asshole, and then she could fuck mine. My prick stiffened at the thought. Down, boy, I instructed my member. There would be plenty of time for sex tonight and every night for at least a month. "I'm glad you like them."

I'd given her a pair of gold cocks. Miniature replicas of the real thing, these tiny circumcised erections were highly detailed for their size; they even showed the veins in the shaft and the wrinkles in the tightly bunched scrotum. Like I say, women--even women like Blanche--are mysteries. Who can know their thoughts or moods? I chose the penises by intuition, but it wasn't an intuition that was entirely uninformed. In this one matter, at least, Blanche and I thought alike. We both love cock. The only difference is that, instead of wearing miniature phalli suspended from my earlobes, I'd rather have a real one down my throat or up my ass or be shoving my own down someone else's throat or up someone else's ass.

Blanche admired the tiny pricks in the mirror once more, and her smile was brighter than the candlelight as she said, "Whenever I wear them, I'll think of yours--and mine."

I smiled. "Me, too," I said.

"Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart," she said, putting the compact back into her purse.

It wasn't yet, I thought, but it certainly was going to be.

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byCal Y. Pygia© 0 comments/ 56388 views/ 1 favorites

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