My mother staggers and nearly faints at Bea’s revelation. I would catch her, but I’m stunned as well.
“What a wonderful surprise!”
“Isn’t it?” Bea concurs as she gives my mother a hug. I scratch my head.
“Let me see the ring,” my mother begs.
“Oh, we haven’t picked one out yet.”
“Perfect. Have you decided on a date?”
“No, Mother, I just proposed last week.”
“Well, come on in you two. You must be starved. Neal, your brother has some fantastic news.”
My brother emerges from the family room shakes my hand and gives me the “bro” hug.
“Neal, this is my … eh, hem … fiancÃ©e, Beatrice Plastique.”
“You sly devil you. I’ve never known you to be able to keep a secret.”
“Right, that’s your thing, bro.”
Neal goes to shake Bea’s hand, but she stops him.
“We’re practically family now. Families hug.”
Neal hugs her and gives me the silent “not bad” look with his lips. I shrug.
“So, Bea, how did the old man manage to snag such a young beauty?”
“Oh, your brother is quite charming.”
“It doesn’t bother you that he’s eighty?”
“Language!” my mother yells from the kitchen as she unwraps enough food for an army.
“Have you ever been to San Diego, Neal?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Well, the boys out that way have priorities that begin with surfing and skateboarding and end with drinking microbrews and eating cheap Mexican food.”
“Surely, they’d make room for loveliness such as yourself.”
“They have little space, considering all the roommates and sloppy pickup trucks. Your brother is sophisticated, mature, and he doesn’t play games … much.”
We chat around the table for an hour or so while nibbling. Bea fits here too. What should I do? Mom says she has my childhood room upstairs all set for us.
“Honey, why don’t we unpack and take a little nap. Flights always wear me out,” Bea suggests.
“Good idea,” my mother agrees, “you two rest up and we’ll have a nice dinner around seven.”
I open the upstairs door for Bea and grab the suitcases. She wiggles up the steps, slowly, teasing me. I lean forward and bite her ass. She shrieks and giggles.
“So, this is the room you grew up in?”
“Indeed. Had my first orgasm right there on that bed.”
“Ah. Who, pray tell, was the lucky girl?”
“She’s right here, actually. Let me introduce you, wife-to-be.”
I spank her.
“Ha, ha, Rosy Palmer–a woman’s biggest rival.”
“So, you’ve never had a woman in your childhood bed?”
“Nope. Fantasized about it a lot.”
“Mm, let’s change that right now,” she insists as we undress in seconds and go at it like teens.
It seems so naughty with my family downstairs. That’s the brand of danger and excitement she has brought into my life. I’m growing addicted to it … to her. Surely, she’s playing games with me about the engagement, but a lifetime with my kinky Lovergirl might not be so bad.
(sometimes control is best relinquished)