Page 32 of Bred By the Minotaur
Then she hobbles off to bed, and I’m left on the couch feeling like the biggest asshole possible.
Hank
I understand so much more now that Phoebe’s told me everything. She is a complicated woman, and it only makes me like her more. She has so many layers to peel back, and high protective walls around a good, loving heart.
She was adorably awkward but natural with Milo, and I saw the look in her eyes when she played with him. Sure, he’s not lacking in charm, but there was something even more tender there. She can feel what I feel when I look at him: the pieces of myself and the pieces of her, bundled up together into a mysterious little package, one that promises endless new surprises. Could she see all the threads of herself woven through him, into a new creature with his own mind, and emotions, and empathy, that now we can watch bloom?
After flicking off the lights, I lock up and head to my room. Instantly I remember Phoebe standing in here, and the scent of her lingers in the air. All I have to do is think that errant thought again about her on my bed, fully naked and looking up at me, and my cock slips from its sheath, growing steadily under my jeans.
No. I’m not going to gratify it. Fantasizing about Phoebe’s soft cries, her little moans as I fucked her on the bench, won’t help me get over her. And that might be what I have to do.
Instead, I turn on the shower, leaving the water cold, and step in. It sends a shock down my back, straight to my balls. I pant under the onslaught and still, I’m imagining her. Now that I’ve seen her face, now that I’ve watched her laugh and almost cry, it’s easy to picture what Phoebe’s face would look like while I was inside of her.
But we wouldn’t be hurried along like we were at DreamTogether. No, I’d take my time with her, weighing her down to the bed under me, thrusting into her over and over until she’s open enough to take my entire cock. I would wring the pleasure out of her, one orgasm after another, in every possible position.
And I could look into her limitless blue eyes while I did it.
Finally, I have no choice but to pump one out. And damn, it feels great, too, despite the freezing water. In my mind, my hand becomes Phoebe’s absolutely flawless pussy, squeezing and pulsing as she writhes under me. Now she’s saying my name, calling it out into the sky while I show her what kind of life she could have with me.
It only takes me seconds to finish, and my cum sprays out, shooting across the shower to land on the tile in a massive splooge.
Damn. I’ve jerked off a lot of times thinking about Phoebe, but not quite like that.
Something about tonight, about seeing her so unguarded with Milo, makes me crave her in an even deeper, more fearsome way. A hidden, darker part of me emerges, demanding that she be here, where we both know she belongs.
“Hank!”
I didn’t sleep much last night, consumed with the thought of how I’m going to convince Phoebe to move in with Milo and me, so I’ve been sitting at the dining room table with a mug of coffee in my hand. I jolt upright at the sound of my mother’s voice.
“Hank! Hank! I won!” She comes bounding into the kitchen with more energy than I think I’ve ever seen her have.
“You won what?” I ask, rubbing my eyes. I think I was falling asleep at the table.
Milo comes in soon after. “Grandma is going to Bahama-mamas!” he says. “Right, Grandma? That’s what they said!”
I squint at my mother. “The Bahamas? How?”
“I won!” she repeats, as if this explains it. “On the radio! I called in during trivia hour and answered the question correctly. I was caller number one hundred, so I won!”
“So... you’re going?” I ask cautiously. “When?”
“Whenever I want!” She hoots. “I don’t think I’ve had a vacation since Milo was born.”
Ah, shit. I know it’s not been the easiest for her, helping me take care of him. But she’s always been happy to do it, so I never even considered what an inconvenience it might be to her personal life.
“Sorry,” she mutters when she realizes what she’s said.
“No, no. It’s true.” I grunt with exhaustion. Milo has long since moved on, walking around Darla in circles in the living room chanting, “Bahama-mamas.” I gaze up at my mother, whose hair and fur have been graying for some time, and who has new lines around her eyes and muzzle that she’s only developed in the last few years. We go to the beach from time to time, and have even stayed the night before, but vacations with Milo are still a lot of work.
“You should go, Mom,” I tell her earnestly. “I can find a nanny to help in the meantime, and I have a few days of vacation saved up.” This isn’t completely true, but I can get some of my coworkers to swap shifts with me.
She eyes me with suspicion. “Are you sure? Milo’s never had someone else for an extended period of time.”
As we speak, I’m going through my mental rolodex. I’ll need someone who can drive Milo to school and pick him up some days. Someone older, who either doesn’t have a job or has a flexible one. Perhaps one of Mom’s friends?
“I can figure it out,” I say, turning on my phone. “Don’t worry about us. Go take care of yourself for once.”
“If you say so...” She trails off, then glances out of the side of her eye toward the living room, where Milo is playing with Darla. “What about Phoebe?”
