One Little Question

When I found it, she screamed.

Like, not a scary scream. But she shouted, a stream of urgent words escaping her lips as I sucked on her swollen clit.

"Daddy," she wailed. "Yes, Daddy, right there, right—"

And I couldn't take it anymore.

I reached down with my right hand, gripping my cock and stroking hard. Pre-cum coated my palm almost instantly and I dragged it down my shaft, groaning against her pussy again as I jerked off. If someone had asked me how I could focus on anything I was doing just then, I couldn't have told them. My lips were doing one thing, my tongue another, each hand tasked with a different action to get both me and my wife off. I had no idea how I was doing it, but it didn't matter.

What mattered was that I was, and Denise was loving it, and I was loving it as much as she was.

"Don't stop," she pleaded. "Right there, keep doing that, and don't—oh, fuck, Daddy, I'm going to come on your tongue, Daddy."

Part of me wanted to stick my tongue inside her again and find out what it felt like to have her actually come on my tongue, but there was no way. One, I wasn't about to stop what I was doing when she was about to come. And two, I couldn't have. Not with the way Denise's legs were suddenly over my shoulders so she could tighten her thighs around my head, and not with the way she was pulling my hair and holding me in place, my nose and mouth completely engrossed with her.

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't do anything but stroke my cock harder as my wife shattered, her orgasm shrieking out of her as she gushed against me. Her body tensed and twitched and she bucked her hips, riding my face as she trembled around me.

And I fucking came.

I fucking came. Like, just a few seconds after her orgasm started. I couldn't think of the last time I'd come that fucking fast, and I'd never come from giving her head. But out of nowhere, that tingling feeling was shooting up my shaft and my balls tightened and I was groaning out the precious little air I had left in my lungs as I shot my load.

Between coming and the way Denise was clamped around me, I was almost ready to pass out when she loosened her grip so I could breathe again. My first gasped breath tasted of her orgasm, something that was thick and distinct and addictive. I still had my hand on my cock, gripping it loosely as it softened, and I stayed where I was, my head resting on her thigh as I tried to recover.

"Sorry," she said as I caught my breath.

"Huh?"

"For suffocating you."

I laughed tiredly. "Like you could suffocate me, pipsqueak."

She giggled, then shifted. "Now you?"

"Now me what?"

"I want you to come."

"I mean, I can try to do it again, but usually it takes me a bit to get it back up."

"Again?" Denise propped herself up and I looked up to see her frowning. "Wait, did you...?"

"I hope you're not attached to this rug," I said. "There's a pretty good chance I ruined it."

The crease between her eyebrows deepened. "You... you came on my rug? Just from eating my pussy?"

"Well, I mean, I used my hand a little."

She pressed her lips together, studying me for another moment before she burst out laughing. I grinned, finally forcing myself to get up and join her on the bed.

"That was amazing," she said as I pulled her into my arms and up so we could lie down as we cuddled. "I don't know what brought that on, but whatever it was... wow. That thing you did with your... your lips and tongue? Like the sucking thing? Jesus, Benny."

Smiling, I kissed the top of her head.

The goddamn vortex. I owed Adrian a fucking case of beer.

The Muppet Christmas Carol was the superior holiday movie.

I'd fight anyone who said differently.

A Charlie Brown Christmas? Boring.

Die Hard? Not a Christmas movie. Fight me.

Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer? Horrible. That annoying little dental elf deserved to get kicked out of the North Pole, just as much as the gold-digger guy with the monster-fucking fetish. I mean, you can't tell me he wasn't trying to get with that... what did he call it, a bumble? The yeti thing.

But The Muppet Christmas Carol was perfect in every way. The movie had the perfect blend of wholesome kitsch and absurdity. Plus, Kermit the Frog could get it. And attitude aside, Miss Piggy could, too.

Although, given those thoughts, maybe I should've been less judgemental about the monster-fucker from the Rudolph movie.

That was what was going through my mind when Rob walked into our apartment after work.

"Hey, baby," I said as I tried to figure out if I was more jealous of Miss Piggy or Kermit or if maybe I just needed to go to church and bring Jesus into my life for having those thoughts in the first place. Shifting on the couch, I tugged the throw blanket tighter around me as I waited for Rob to appear in the entrance to the living room.

"Hi, Hal," he replied in a low, gravelly voice that made my stomach flutter. Moments later, he appeared, work boots off but still clad in his coveralls, the sleeves rolled up to reveal the tattoos scrawled along his hands and forearms.

There was no one in the world I'd ever been attracted to the way I was attracted to Rob. Even in his dirty old coveralls and with his cheeks red from the cold outside, my body reacted to him. He was huge—six-five, I think was officially what was on his driver's license, tall enough that he instinctively ducked under doors even though there was probably a bit of clearance on most of them—and had a broad chest and shoulders. He'd been shaving his head for as long as I'd known him, and I was one of the few people he'd told it was because he'd started balding early. Not that it mattered, because he was damn sexy bald.

Plus, he had the whole goatee thing going on. And the aforementioned tattoos. God, I loved his tattoos. When we'd first met, he didn't have the one on his throat; that had been a year or two after we started dating, and I absolutely loved driving him wild by tracing patterns along it with my tongue. And the ones on his hands, which I'd been a bit uncertain of until we were in bed a few nights after he got them and the swelling had gone down.

"See, baby girl?" he'd growled in my ear, then his hand snaked up to my throat and squeezed. "I needed to get these tattooed so you can have the pretty necklace you deserve."

I know, right? I'd almost shattered in his hands just then, before he'd even started touching the rest of me.

Rob was a collection of contradictions. Intimidatingly huge and the world's biggest softie. Gruff and grungy to the point he looked borderline dangerous, but almost stereotypically kind and sweet and genuine, the way that people both expect and don't expect guys who looked like him to be.

Until you got him in the bedroom.

That was where the hard, rough badass people thought he might be came out. That was where I got the confident, domineering side of him. Where his filthy mouth and even dirtier mind took over, and I loved every bit of it.

He was never rougher than I could handle. He wasn't the kind of person to get off on hurting someone or using someone for his own pleasure. So there were no whips or floggers or paddles in our bedroom. If I was getting spanked, it was while he was inside me, and it was only ever with his hand so he could feel my skin warm beneath his palm. There were... well, not chains, but restraints, a comfy leather set of cuffs permanently attached to our bed that I tried to remember to tuck under the mattress when we had company.

God, he was so fucking hot. Way hotter than Kermit the Frog.

"You look cozy," Rob said as he leaned against the wall of the living room. "Got your napping blanket out here and everything."

I wiggled beneath the thick sherpa blanket I'd stolen off our bed and shrouded myself with. "Well, I needed it. For my nap."

He smiled, though something seemed slightly off about it. "What'd you need a nap for? Thought you were just at Candice's place."

"Exactly." I tightened the blanket around me. "Do you know how bad of an influence your boss's wife is?"

"I have some idea."

"So then you know she made me eat way too many cookies," I said. "And drink way too many mimosas. And then I walked home with Laura, so that counts as like... exercise or something."

One of Rob's eyebrows flicked up. "Are you still feeling drunk?"

It was an odd question, but I didn't clock it.

"No," I said. "That's why I had the nap. It's the number one cure for too many cookies and mimosas."

"Good," he said. "That's good."

I frowned. "I mean, yeah, but... why?"

Rob licked his lips, then curled the lower one between his teeth in a way that made heat rush down my body and straight to my core.

"Just don't want you feeling sick or anything, baby girl," he said. "Did you eat dinner yet?"

"Does a bowl of popcorn count?"

"Was it a big bowl?"

"Huge. With lots of butter."

He half-shrugged. "I think that counts as a vegetarian meal."

I laughed. "Did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Eat dinner while you were out with the guys?"

"Sort of. It was only me and Adrian and Benny so we just split some nachos. I might make something later, but I'm not hungry right now."

"There's eight dozen cookies in the freezer you could have."

He chuckled. "Yeah, that's true. How was the cookie exchange, anyway?"

"Good," I said. "My Oreo meltaways were a hit."

"They always are," he said. "Did you talk about anything fun?"

Of course. He'd been asked Candice's little question. I bit back a laugh.

"Oh, nothing really," I said. "Just the typical stuff. Baking techniques and where to buy the best shoes and if guys like eating pussy and Mrs. Wilson's awful new haircut."

A hint of a smirk crossed his face. "Definitely interesting what you all come up with when you get together."

"Are you going to tell me who the two outliers on the survey were?" I asked.

He flicked his eyebrow up. "Why? Worried I was one of them?"

I gave him an unimpressed look. "I know you weren't one of them."

"Yeah, 'cause I'm always the one asking for it. Right, baby girl?"

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Rob's tone was casual. His face was relaxed. His arms were crossed nonchalantly across his chest. The corners of his lips were flicked up, slightly amused, but his eyes were...

Not cold. Not angry. Just... sharp.

Sharp and dark.

"I'm gonna take a shower," he said before I could say anything, then stopped leaning on the wall and crossed the short distance to the couch. He slipped two fingers under my chin and tilted my head up, pressing a chaste little kiss to my lips before straightening up. "I'll be quick. Wouldn't want to miss the end of the movie."

Then he was gone, the sound of the bathroom door closing with a conclusive bang as I stared at the Muppets on the TV.

Someone must have told him what I said.

My mouth was dry, but I couldn't make myself swallow past the lump in my throat that I thought could very well be my heart.

I felt awful about it. Candice's question had caught me off guard and the whole "he tries" thing had just... it had just slipped out. I hadn't meant to make it sound like Rob was bad in bed. Especially because he absolutely wasn't. Candice just had a way of pressing for information and I'd had a couple of mimosas and...

That's not to say that what I said wasn't true, because... well, it was. I hated to admit it, but he just... he wasn't good at oral.

And that was fine. It was completely fine. I'd tried to make that clear to the girls and I'd asked them not to say anything, but someone must have said something and now Rob was upset and he didn't even let me explain and...

Fuck.

Fuck.

I licked my lips, clutching the blanket around me before I took a deep breath and told myself to calm down. He was going to get out of the shower, all nice and clean and relaxed after his day at work, and I was going to explain what I'd said and what I meant and that whoever told him had obviously made a bigger deal about it than it was. And then I was going to very calmly ask him who told him that I'd said anything because I'd specifically asked the women in that room not to say anything, and then I was going to track whoever it was down and—

Another deep breath. Another internal reminder to calm down.

There were only two people it could have been, I reasoned. Rob had been at work all day. And after work, he'd texted me to say he was going out for a drink with the guys from work.

And of the women who had been at the cookie exchange, there were only two people who had partners who worked with Rob.

Candice would have never said anything to Jay. She just wouldn't have. She could be loud and bold and squeeze secrets out of people like water from a sponge, but those secrets stayed locked behind her lips. We'd been friends for long enough that I knew she wouldn't share something like that, especially because she also knew Rob and I had a great sex life. We were close enough that we'd had those conversations before.

So that left Laura.

From a logical perspective, it made sense that it would be her. We'd only just met, so I didn't know her well. Seth was the newest guy on the crew. They were both young. I mean, not like young-young, but firmly in their mid-twenties when I was already past the big three-zero.

But there were a few problems with that as well.

For one, I walked home with Laura. She lived in a basement suite two streets away from my and Rob's apartment building, so it made sense for us to go together. But that also meant I knew what time she'd gotten home. And I also knew she didn't live with Seth. And that Seth had been working.

For two, Rob had said Seth wasn't at the bar with him.

So unless Laura had randomly texted Seth out of nowhere to tell him what I said, and then Seth immediately turned to Rob and asked about it, it seemed unlikely that was how Rob found out.

Not only that, but Laura wasn't the type to do it, either. I may not have known her well, but I knew enough. She was a sweet girl who taught science at the local high school and could pound back the mimosas as fast as I could. And that meant I obviously had a huge deal of respect for her.

And because she'd pulled Seth, who was a little hottie. Rob might have been my one-and-only and Seth may have been a little on the young side for me, but I could appreciate that he was gorgeous. And Laura seemed to have gotten the kid to grow up a bit in the few months they'd been together. Which, again. Mad respect.

And after she'd admitted Seth didn't like to go down on her, I'd felt a sort of kinship with the girl. We were the two people in the room who seemed to have issues with our partners performing a successful yodel in the valley.

"Does it bother you?" I asked after we left Candice's and were walking through the thin brushing of snow on the sidewalk.

"That Seth doesn't do it?" Laura said. "No. It's his choice. It's totally fine. Like, it's not even a big deal. I don't know why everyone was saying it was a big deal."

I tried not to laugh. "I meant what we were talking about."

Laura's cheeks turned pink. "Oh. Um. No."

"You sure?" I asked, looking at her from the corner of my eye.

"I am," she said. "I was... surprised, I suppose. I didn't think I knew any of you that well yet. But it was okay. It was a lot of fun, actually."

"Except the part where you had to admit your boyfriend doesn't go down on you."

"I just said—"

"Girl. I admitted to a room full of people that Rob isn't... you know. Great at it." I hitched the bag holding my cookies up so it would stop sliding down the sleeve of my puffy winter jacket. "You can be honest with me."

She opened her mouth, then closed it. For a moment, she was silent, her mouth twisted to the side.

"I kind of wish he would," she finally said, her voice soft. "Go down on me, I mean."

"Have you told him that?" I asked.

She shook her head. "We talked about it once. He said he didn't like it. I didn't bring it up again. So it's not really his fault."

"Why don't you tell him?"

She turned her head to look at me. "Why don't you tell Rob he's not good at it?"

I laughed and nodded. "Touché."

"No, really," Laura pressed. "Why don't you?"

"Probably the same as you," I said. "It's not a big enough deal to bring up and potentially cause issues. I don't want to make him feel bad. And honestly? I've never come from oral anyway, so it's not like I'd gain anything, you know?" I sighed, then shrugged. "Everything else about our sex life is amazing. Like, so amazing."

"Mine too," she said. "So it's not a big deal, right?"

"Right. Of course."

And I think we both thought it was the truth.

We talked about other unimportant things for the rest of our walk. Once we reached her apartment, she promised to text me to let me know what Seth thought of my Oreo meltaway cookies—which I knew would be that he loved them, because everyone loved them, but I pretended I was truly curious so we had a reason to keep in touch—and gave me a hug goodbye.

Then I'd gone home, taken a shower, changed into a clean pair of panties and a t-shirt, and curled up on the couch with my napping blanket and bowl of popcorn and Christmas movies until Rob texted me to say he was going out for a drink.

Nothing about any of my time with Laura made me think she would have gone out of her way to gossip like that.

But if it couldn't have been Candice or Laura, then who?

I stared at the TV as the Muppet Ghost of Christmas Present laughed heartily on the screen. The shower was still running in the background.

Maybe no one had told Rob.

Maybe I was just feeling guilty and reading way too much into what he'd said. All he'd actually said was that he was always the one asking for it. And Rob always told me I was a chronic overthinker, which was very true. So maybe...

Maybe I should just talk to him about it when he got out of the shower and we were both relaxing on the couch. He would be out before the movie was over and I could turn to him and say, "Hey, you know what the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come and I have in common?"

Brilliant. Absolutely fucking brilliant. Just what everyone wants to do the week before Christmas: insult the love of their life's pussy-eating skills with hilarious and topical yet incredibly hurtful Christmas puns.

Before I could come up with an actual plan to bring it up with Rob, he came back into the living room and startled me.

I hadn't heard the shower turn off, but he'd obviously just gotten out. He hadn't bothered with a shirt, just a pair of grey sweatpants slung low enough that the tattoos on his hips peeked out over the waistband. Beneath the tattoos on his chest and stomach, his muscles were firm and strong—not so defined as to be intimidating, but enough that it was obvious he worked a physical job and went to the gym a couple of days a week.

It was completely unfair. Those sweatpants were the equivalent of me wearing the skimpiest lingerie I could find and putting myself in the restraints on our bed; that is, fucking irresistible.

And he knew it.

"What'd I miss?" he asked in a low grumble as he walked over and settled on the couch next to me.

"N-Nothing," I said. "You've seen this before."

He smirked and tugged on the blanket. "C'mon. You gonna let me get cold, baby girl?"

My breath hitched and I unwrapped the blanket from around my shoulders so I could put it over both of us. As I did, Rob's eyes flicked down, taking in the sight of me with no bottoms on.

"Maybe if you were wearing something over your panties, you wouldn't be so cold," he murmured.