Page 41 of Misadventures of a Curvy Girl
She awkwardly, adorably, asks if she can come visit this weekend.
“How about you move in,” Ben says.
She laughs, but I know he’s not joking. The time away from her has done nothing to dull our certainty that she’s our girl, the missing piece to our hearts, and every moment she’s away from us is painful. After she offhandedly mentions being able to work remotely, it makes it impossible not to dream and hope of a time when she can stay here always. But Ben and I agree not to push her too fast. We’ve had years and years to adjust to the way we like our love and our sex, but Ireland’s only had a week.
We can be patient. Maybe.
When she returns on Friday afternoon in her gravel-dusted Prius and with a fresh coat of lavender lipstick on that irresistible mouth, Ben and I are waiting.
She parks in the driveway and climbs out of the car, looking a bit shy, like she’s not sure what it will be like to be with us in person again. She’s wearing another pencil skirt, this
time with heels and a clingy cardigan thing that shows off all my favorite parts of her breasts and stomach and waist. The pencil skirt hugs her tightly enough that I can easily perceive the inverted triangle of her crotch, and even though I was already hard with anticipation simply knowing she was on the way, seeing her in the flesh is like a kick of heat right to my dick. My balls tighten and my shaft swells even more, needing to be buried inside her at the first opportunity.
Ben is the first to move, prowling toward her like a wolf and then seizing her in a lewd kiss that has her nipples poking through her sweater.
“Inside,” he growls, all beast to Ireland’s beauty. “Fucking now.”
We go inside, and we fuck Ireland in her pencil skirt, and then in nothing but her heels, and then again in nothing but her lipstick.
“Move in,” Ben says again as we all lie in bed that night, naked and sweaty and spent.
Ireland laughs again, burrowing into us and falling asleep in a record amount of time.
This time, Ben almost manages to stay the entire night with us before creeping back to his own bed where he feels safe.
Chapter Fifteen
Ireland
“No way,” I say firmly. “Uh-uh. Nothing doing.”
It’s my fourth weekend with the boys—my boys—and the miserable August heat has driven us to the big farm pond at the back of the property. I thought we were heading back here simply to sit beside the water and let the breeze cool us off, but that notion evaporated the minute we reached the small wooden dock and both Caleb and Ben stripped completely naked. I barely had a chance to ogle their big, muscled bodies with those delightfully taut asses and heavy, semihard cocks, before they launched themselves into the water.
Completely naked.
“Come on, peach!” Caleb says with his customary grin. “It feels amazing!”
I shake my head vigorously. It’s hot as hell out here, and while I normally love swimming, I love swimming in a swimsuit. One that has been carefully selected to support and flatter. The idea of stripping naked in all this bright sunlight, every wobbly inch of me exposed, and then jumping into the water with all those wobbly inches at maximum wobble is enough to make me wince.
It’s strange, because a month ago, I would have avowed the new Ireland was confident and fierce and no longer cared about wobbles at all. And you would think having two hunky farm boys jumping my bones every few hours would have cured me of any insecurity at all!
I’m annoyed with myself about it. It feels like I’m going backward…and with no good reason. These boys adore me. I adore them. They’ve never done anything to make me feel anything but the sexiest woman alive.
But, if I’m honest, when Ben and I fought and I left, there was this tiny part of me that said, Oh. Of course. What did I expect would happen? Plus-sized girls don’t date cute, fit guys. Men like them won’t want to keep you around.
I know it was his war trauma talking, and Ben never made that moment about my body—but I did. I definitely did. And there’s this weird little place in my mind that won’t let go of it, like a dog with a bone. Just chewing over this insecurity until it’s gross and splintery and rank. Until it whispers things like how long do you really think this can last? How long until they really look at your body and decide not to want you anymore?
“I don’t like swimming with fish,” I lie, sitting on the dock instead. I stretch out my legs and smooth my skirt primly down my thighs. The fabric sticks to my skin because I’m so sweaty, and I try not to think about how cold the swimming hole looks right now. How refreshing. “I prefer to swim in clean water. Without living things in it.”
“The fish are very nice fish,” Caleb promises. “They haven’t eaten a person in years.”
“Funny,” I reply. “Very funny. I’m still not coming in.”
“I think you are,” Ben says from next to the dock. The water flows gracefully over his strong shoulders as he effortlessly treads in place, the tantalizing lines of his firm body disappearing into the green depths and hiding the most interesting parts from view.
I try to catch a glimpse anyway.
I bet even the cool water swallowing up his body is doing nothing to diminish that perfect penis of his.
