Playing Kissy Face

Joi straddled him and awkwardly thrust a few times. Brian toyed with her hanging breasts, pinching the small nipples. He kissed her, then playfully slapped her ass.

(He did it lightly, playfully. But honestly, Brian was slapping Joi's ass, trying to get her to move, urging her to start fucking.)

Even with her on top, Brian had to do most of the work, thrusting his hips upward to meet her short, clumsy strokes.

"God damn! Blow up doll would be better," Brian thought.

Obviously, though, Joi did enjoy their coupling. After he'd grunted and filled his condom, she wanted to know how long it would take him to be ready to do it again.

The second time, they did it doggy style. This position was more mutually satisfying for the two of them. Brian liked it because he could play with her swinging breasts, play with her clitoris, even lightly slap her full buttocks.

"Aieeh!" Joi suddenly cried out and sprayed Brian's crotch with her orgasm.

"Damn yes," Brian grunted and filled another condom.

He drove Joi home after they'd grilled on his back deck, after they'd kissed a few moments. With a final kiss at her door, Brian was actually relieved to leave her. He also felt ashamed of feeling relieved; they'd just had sex, made love. He reasoned, he should feel a closeness to the girl.

Casa Ole Mexican Restaurant was open on Sunday; Brian agreed to meet Joi and Catherine and Brent for Sunday dinner. Joi smiled up at Brian happily, clutching possessively onto him. Brian was polite, even friendly.

When Brent and Catherine let their opinion of Ricky Hebert be known, Brian politely asserted that he did not know Ricky. Therefore, he had no opinion on the subject. He didn't know anything about Calculus either, therefore, had no opinion on the subject.

"Yeah, but at least Calculus can be used for something," Brent said.

"And so can Ricky," Brian said. "Crab bait?"

Brent and Catherine laughed; Joi playfully slapped Brian's arm. There was a mild argument over who should pay for their dinner. Brian graciously let Brent win and thanked them for dinner.

Wednesday night, Brian made Joi pout when he insisted on cutting their date short; he had to be on the boat at five the following morning. He also reminded her, he would be working and would not have time to text, or to chat. He would call her when he returned to dry land.

"Yeah, but that a whole fourteen days now," Joi whined.

"No it ain't," Brian smiled. "It's just two weeks."

"Man! Brian, think I'm stupid?" Joi groused, slapping his arm. "Fourteen days, two weeks same thing."

By the time Brian did return to DeGarde, he had determined he would break it off with Joi. She was attractive, was sweet, and did seem to be attracted to him. But she also seemed to be hung up on her boyfriend, ex-boyfriend; Joi talked about Ricky Hebert all the time. And her boyfriend, ex-boyfriend was constantly calling her, texting her.

There was an eight year age difference as well. Brian did not care for the television shows Joi 'just couldn't live without.' He certainly did not care for her taste, or lack of taste in music. Joi also had never read a book just for the sheer enjoyment of reading a book, the pleasure of losing oneself in an author's vivid description, an author's landscape. Joi had never heard of most of the books on Brian's bookshelves.

One more thing that made Brian in favor of breaking things off with Joi Marchot; she did not know how to fuck. She did not know how to suck cock. She had the perfect ass for anal sex, but adamantly refused Brian access to her ass.

The boat ride took a long time, chugging from rig to land. There was a nine car pileup on I-10 just past Lafayette, Louisiana and it took almost two hours to negotiate his way to the DeGarde exit.

The entire time, his cell phone kept chiming with 'U in yet?' text messages from Joi.

"Jesus, H. Christ, Joi, huh?" Brian yelled at the screen of his phone.

She must have been watching his house. No sooner had Brian dumped his laundry onto the floor of his utility room, Joi was knocking on his front door.

"Hey!" Joi happily greeted Brian, kissing him.

She was wearing a bikini top and khaki shorts and her customary cheap flip flops on her feet. Her chubby little belly was on display, as were her stubby legs. And when she breezed past him, her chunky ass cheeks peeked out at him.

Brian forgot about breaking things off with Joi as she dropped bikini top and shorts to the floor of his living room and sauntered, nude, toward his bedroom.

Joi was already kneeling on his bed, ass stuck out. Brian quickly dropped his clothes to the floor, got up into the bed and sank his hard cock into her wet pussy in one long thrust. They both groaned happily.

Brian grabbed her hanging breasts and tweaked and pinched her nipples. She hissed her approval as he used her breasts as reins, pulling her back to meet his forward thrusts.

"Shit! Condom," Brian suddenly remembered.

"Don't worry 'bout it," Joi groaned. "Just pull out before you going shoot, okay?"

He began to hammer her hard and she grunted approval. When he reached down and began toying with her clitoris, she stiffened, then screamed in orgasm.

"Shit, shit, shit," Brian grunted and pulled his spurting cock from her slick pussy.

He blasted his semen onto her back, into her mane of brown hair, onto her cute buttocks.

"Brian! In my hair?" Joi yelled.

"Shower right there," Brian pointed.

"Yeah, but I don't like your shampoo no," Joi complained.

"Then you can just wait 'til you get home," Brian suggested.

"Uh huh, and what my mom going think, huh?" Joi snapped.

"Why I like condoms. Ain't got all this mess," Brian grumbled as Joi stomped into his bathroom.

By Tuesday, the rift was undeniable. By Wednesday night, Joi tearfully agreed that she and Brian needed to break up.

"Hey, I mean, really? All I ever been was a rebound huh?" Brian softly said, giving her a second handkerchief to wipe her tear streaked face.

"That ain't true," she sobbed, clinging onto him.

"Man, Joi, huh? Yeah it is," Brian said.

He kissed her one more time. Then he smiled tightly.

"But you a beautiful girl; you going find you someone love you and you going love them," he gently said.

The next morning, Brian watched several rain clouds shining a silvery black in the dawning sun. Just as they reached the platform, the rain pelted down.

The rain continued for three long days and nights. Often, as he stood, rain pelting him, Brian thought about Joi, hoped she would be all right.

Again, when he boarded the boat that would take him to the Industrial Canal, grayish black clouds threatened. And just as he reached his truck, more rain fell.

"Hi," a simple text message popped up.

"Hi," he sent back.

"Miss you," Joi texted.

"Miss you too," Brian agreed.

"Can I come over?" Joi texted.

"Please don't," Brian replied.

Joi sent a few more messages. Brian ignored them as he slowly drove east through the heavy downpour.

The rain was coming down in sheets; he almost missed his exit. With a sigh, he was grateful to finally back into his driveway, back his truck underneath his carport.

Joi continued with her barrage of text messages. Brian ignored some, replied to some, but refused her access to his home.

The rain let up and he went to Manny's Mexican Restaurant, enjoyed their three enchilada platter. Then he hefted his bowling bag and went to the Bowl-A-Rama.

"Louviere, huh? See that? See that sign right there?" Joe Trahan taunted when Brian joined him and Paul Morris at Lane 8.

"Huh? Oh, you must mean that sign that says scoring machines out of order," Brian taunted. "Because, Mr. Average is one forty three, ain't no way you bowled a three hundred."

"Read it, baby, read it," Joe said. "Joseph A. Trahan, three hundred points, April twenty second, two thousand fifteen."

"The day the scoring machines were all broke," Brian squinted as if he was reading the fine print on the banner.

Joe may have bowled a perfect game a few months earlier, but Brian and Paul easily trounced him in three games.

They celebrated their wins, drowned their sorrows over their losses over a few St. Elizabeth long necks in the bowling alley's small bar. Paul, Joe and Brian watched a group of teenaged girls walk by, giggling and squealing.

"Didn't look like that when we was in school, Joe said.

"Mm hmm," Brian agreed.

"Ones that did? Never looked twice at us," Paul agreed.

"What's this 'us' shit?" Joe bragged.

Joi's text messages dropped off to one or two a day. By Wednesday night, it had been two days since her last text.

"Need to talk," Brian read eight weeks later.

It had been a grueling two week shift. He had a new supervisor and the supervisor had a Napoleon complex. Rather than letting his crew do their job, the man insisted that they were doing it wrong and slowed their production down as he insisted they do things his way.

Brian wearily got into his truck, looked at his screen and thought of deleting, ignoring the message. It had been a few weeks since her last message, though. So he called her.

"I, uh, we need talk yeah," Joi said flatly when she heard Brian's voice.

He agreed to meet with her at Sweet Peas, a small soul food restaurant in DeGarde, Louisiana. He went home, did a few loads of laundry, took a nap, and almost overslept. So he was a few minutes late getting to the restaurant.

Brian's eyebrows did rise slightly at the sight of Brent and Catherine sitting at a small table with Joi.

"Hey," he said, approaching the table.

"I'm pregnant," Joi said, before Brian even sat down.

Brian remembered that afternoon when he'd not used a condom. He had been balls deep in her pussy when he began to shoot. He had gripped the base of his cock as he pulled out, but his semen was already jetting out, splattering onto her back, into her hair, onto her buttocks.

He sat heavily at the table.

"Ordered you a sweet tea," was Brent's only comment.

"I ain't getting me no abortion," Joi declared.

"Baby's going need two parents," Catherine said tightly. "Even good babies? They needing two parents."

"You, you're sure..." Brian started.

"Done missed two periods," Joi snapped. "I ain't stupid no."

Brian wisely shut his mouth and nodded his thanks when a large black woman put a tall glass of iced tea down in front of him.

He had meant to ask Joi if she was sure he was the father. He had no idea if she'd been sleeping around while he'd been off-shore. For all he knew, she could have been pregnant when he picked her up outside of Manny's that first night.

But with her mother and her step-father sitting at the same table, it would have been a foolish, and cruel thing to ask the worried looking girl.

"I'm sorry," Joi whispered, bottom lip trembling.

"Well, what's done is done," Brian said. "Need get you on my insurance quick like."

For the first time, Brent smiled and nodded his head. Catherine did relax slightly, but she did not smile.

"Now, when we finished eating here," Brent joked when four platters of stuffed pork chops, rice and gravy, and sweet peas were placed in front of them, "Need swing by the house, get her stuff."

"Get her..." Brian asked.

"Yeah, she moving in with you yeah," Brent joked.

The quartet did return to the Arcenaux home after their meal. They sat at the small kitchen table to talk, to plan.

Brian felt smothered, cramped as Joi clung to him. But he fought down his irritation; she was frightened, unsure. She was clinging to him for reassurance. He smiled at her and she did relax her grip. Slightly.

Since they were Catholic, they did agree that a Catholic wedding would have been ideal.

"But I know, ain't no way Father Benny going do no hurry-up wedding," Catherine said.

"And Father Doldbridthe ain't going do none either," Brian agreed.

"How 'bout this? Y'all go on, get married courthouse," Brent said.

"Brent!" Catherine snapped, angered.

"Shush! Listen, I'm fixing tell you," Brent said. "Then, when it your say five year anniversary? We give y'all a big old church wedding, renew them vows like."

"I like it," Brian agreed.

"Me too," Joi agreed.

"Now, how quick you can get some cardboard boxes" Brent asked, smiling. "Make that room my man cave."

"The living room's already your man cave," Catherine pointed out.

"Huh? Ain't got no lock, keep you out," Brent argued.

"And ain't got no lock, keep you in," Catherine agreed.

"Aw, big old TV, ice box put my beer? Yeah, go on, you lock that door, see if I care," Brent agreed.

"I really am sorry," Joi said when she and Brian stood outside, saying good night.

"Hey, I uh, if I remember correctly, took both of us, huh?" Brian softly said, holding her tightly.

Brian went off-shore for another two week shift, after getting his supervisor to sign off on switching him to seven on, seven off, and agreeing to give him two weeks off for a wedding and honeymoon.

Joi did invite Melissa and Allison to the small reception that would be held in a back room of Casa Ole Mexican Restaurant. Which meant that Matt and Woody were also invited to the wedding reception. Both young men laughed gleefully as they taunted Ricky Hebert about his girlfriend's upcoming wedding. Allison and Melissa also sneered at Ricky's displeasure.

Ricky vowed to crash the wedding at the courthouse. Brent advised the brash young man that he hoped Ricky would try; there would be several police officers in and around the courthouse.

Ricky also threatened to crash the reception, to do his best to disrupt the festivities.

"Please do, Ricky," Brent smiled. "Be my pleasure stomp the shit out of you."

"Aw, fuck you, old man," Ricky sneered.

"Yeah? Think you man enough? No? Didn't think so, punk ass bitch," Brent sneered.

Ricky did not show up at the small civil ceremony. Nor did he show up at the restaurant. Melissa and Allison and three of Joi's cousins squealed and whooped while Woody and Matt tried to see who could get drunker faster. They were also joined by a few of Joi's male cousins, a few of Brent's family as well.

Brian's mother and father were polite to Brent and Catherine. They were exceedingly polite to Joi. They also let Brian know just how disappointed they were in him, in his actions, in his choices in life, his choices in his profession, his choices in where to live.

"Your brother's already doing his residency at Oschner," his mother said.

"And damned sure isn't marrying some trailer trash teenager," his father agreed.

"And your sister's just opened her fourth, no, no fifth bakery in Rankin County," his mother said.

"Wow, I probably should just go ahead and commit suicide now, huh?" Brian suggested.

The couple honeymooned in the French Quarter. While they were in New Orleans, Brent and Catherine moved Joi's belongings to Brian's home. They also gave the couple a wedding gift of a baby bed and changing table. With much cursing, Brent managed to put the items together in the third bedroom.

"Hope they having plenty kids; good luck getting that thing out, huh?" Brent said after tightening the last bolt.

"I'm too young be a grandmother," Catherine wailed, looking at the baby furniture.

"And Joi too childish be a momma," Brent thought but just held his wife as she sobbed.

While on their honeymoon, Brian did talk with Joi. He did let her know part of the reason he'd been ready to call it quits was her lack of participation in the bedroom.

Despite her promises, despite his coaching, Joi did not improve much. Her blow jobs did improve slightly; she learned how to keep her teeth out of the way. But intercourse was still very one-sided.

Their wedding night, Joi did give Brian her anal cherry. Even though she had a grunting, thrashing orgasm from the vulgar act, she vowed that was their one and only time doing that.

"That hurts," she complained as she got to wobbly legs.

"What you talking 'bout? I ain't hurt one bit," Brian smirked.

Returning home, they settled into domestic coexistence. Brian did try to love his wife. He did try to show her understanding when her lack of maturity bubbled to the surface.

Brian found out that Joi did not drive. Brent had tried to teach her and she cried when he raised her voice at her. Catherine had tried but Joi said Catherine made her too nervous.

"Explains why you so bad at go-carts," Brian said, which earned him a squeal and slap from his wife.

"Sweetheart, you really need learn how drive," Brian urged. "Man! I'm off-shore, something happen with the baby, you going wait for your Momma come get you?"

"No; call the ambulance," Joi said.

"You out of diapers; going wait until Brent come bring you some?" Brian suggested.

"Be waiting a long time; Brent ain't bringing none," Brent said.

The A-1 School of driving sent a friendly young man out. He first drove Joi to the U.L.D. stadium parking lot and went over the basics with the agitated girl. He showed her that he had a steering wheel and gas and brakes on his side of the car; there was very little danger of anything happening.

Joi was bathed in sweat by the time she drove up to their home. But Brian hugged her and told her he was proud of her.

"All right, see y'all tomorrow," the young man said with a cheerful wave as he backed out of the driveway.

When Joi took and passed her diving test, Brian bought her a 2009 Toyota Camry. Brent bought a baby seat and proudly put it into the car.

Housekeeping was not a strong suit of Joi's. Catherine did admit she had spoiled the girl, finding it easier to clean the house rather than teach Joi how to do it. Cooking was also a difficult skill for Joi to grasp.

"Man; what you do know how do?" Brian exploded after Joi burned, ruined some chicken breasts.

Wailing, Joi locked herself in their bedroom. Feeling he was right, Brian refused to apologize. He opened the kitchen window and kitchen door, allowing the smoke to clear. Then he salvaged what he could of the chicken meat.

"Damn, how you do that, huh? Burn this side, that side still raw?" Brian yelled.

But he managed to make a chicken jambalaya out of the meat he could pick off the bones.

"Ain't hungry," Joi tearfully screamed through the door when Brian knocked and announced supper was ready.

"That fine; more for me," Brian yelled back.

Brian had heard people talk about the glow pregnant women seemed to have. As her pregnancy progressed, Joi did not glow. Already a little on the chubby side, Joi quickly ballooned. Dr. Pilleur did caution Joi and Brian about diet, nutrition. While he was in from off-shore, Brian did try to keep Joi's diet on track. But he was sure she was not adhering to any dietary restrictions when he was on the rigs.

One day, Joi was sitting on the couch, looking like a beached whale at seven and a half months of pregnancy. Brian was counting the days until he could go back off-shore. He was also wondering if he could again switch back to fourteen on, seven off. As he stirred the simmering soup, he heard Joi's phone chime. Then he heard Joi giggle. A moment later, another chime sounded.

Whenever he entered the room, Joi would quickly shove her cell phone out of sight. The few times he did see her cell phone unattended, the text history, the voice mail history was cleared.

When he heard another chime, Brian quietly covered the pot of soup. Then he crept toward the living room.

Joi was smiling happily as she typed out a reply. The moment she hit 'send' Brian swooped into the living room and grabbed the cell phone out of Joi's hand.

"Hey!" she screamed, horrified.

Joi tried to get to her feet, tried to grab the phone out of Brian's hand. Brian very easily kept Joi pinned to the couch by placing his hand on the top of her head.

Brian read aloud Ricky's message about how he couldn't wait to fuck her again. He read Joi's reply that Brian would not be leaving for off-shore until Thursday. He also read her declaration that she could not wait to suck his cock.