Infinity(26)

“Colin, I’m nauseous. I’ve already thrown up the healthy veggies I had for lunch. Can you hurry?”

I reach up and run my fingers through my hair. Bald by forty. “I’m trying to get home, baby.” It makes me insane that she’s been sick today. I was hoping with the first trimester ending that this shit would be getting better.

“Colin,” she whines. “Hurry… I need my Whopper, fries, milkshake…” There’s a pause, and I can hear the smile in her voice when she says, “…your dick. I’ve missed you.”

We don’t get to have our “alone time” we’re usually able to find during out-of-town games. Brad is a cock-blocking motherfucker. We’ll have a private chat about that later.

In the background, I hear the damn vibrator switch on. “Honey, I’m fucking my BOB because you’re taking too long.” Then, there’s a pregnant pause—pun intended. “Oh God, baby, I’m imaging that your long, thick, hard dick’s slamming inside of me.” She moans.

My cock presses uncomfortably against the zipper of my jeans, fully aware of what she’s saying. I reach down adjusting it. It’s okay, boy. We’ll see her shortly.

Finally, the asshole in front of me finds his fifty-nine cents and goes on with his shit meal. “Charlie, hang in there for me. I’m getting your French fries right now.”

I hand the poor pimple-faced kid a ten and snatch my bag of dollar fries before he can hand me the change. I mumble to myself, “Call it a tip.”

“What, baby?” She moans into the phone. “Tell me how hard you are for me.”

Fuck. I think. There’s a reason that pregnancy is only nine months; because men can’t take ten months of this insanity.

“I’m pulling into McDonalds right now for your shake. Hang on, baby. I’ll be home in ten. Then I’ll make love to you until you fall asleep in my arms,” I try to reason with her.

“But Colin, I need you. I need to fuck you now.”

I look down at my poor, confused cock, shaking my head. It had no idea what we were getting ourselves in to when we knocked Charlie up.

“I’m already at the window, handing the nice lady my two dollars. Your milkshake is in my drink holder, freshly frozen, and not melting, just like you like it.” I reassure her as I merge into traffic. “Pull that plastic dick out of your sweet pussy. I’ll let you ride my hard cock while I feed you your dinner.” I roll my eyes at the words that are exiting my mouth. The truth is that I’ll do it. I’ll set up her smorgasbord of shit on my chest and let her ride my cock while I feed her Wendy’s French fries, because I love Caroline Jane Collins-McKinney more than I love my own dignity.

“Oh Colin,” she moans. “I’m coming. Oh God, I’m coming. My pussy is gripping the vibrator like it’s your cock. I’m pretending it’s you, and you feel so fucking good.”

I’m half tempted to throw my phone across the car. I just had to listen to my wife masturbate while I’m doing her bidding at fast-food row. Fuck me. This baby can’t get here soon enough. I’ll trade my sex-obsessed, insatiable, puking wife any day for the rational, self-assured, confident, sassy woman that I married. But, I remind myself over and over, she’s growing our child. This is not her. This is her out of whack hormones. I’ll have my wife back with the bonus prize of our baby soon.

“Honey, I’m in the driveway. I’m coming to you. I’ll be at the kitchen table in three minutes. Let Pancho outside. He can greet me.” I try to reason with her.

“Too late,” she moans. “I’m going to be sick.”

“Fuck my life,” I yell as I toss my phone across the car.



****



A few weeks later, it’s like a light-switch flipped. She’s back to being my sane, rational, Charlie who happens to like at least three to five orgasms a day. She can keep down healthy foods like steamed veggies. I’ve quit visiting my biggest fans on fast-food row. I tiptoe around the house, afraid to upset the balance, but now I’m getting more comfortable around my new Charlie.

It’s a year ago almost to the day that the “break seen around the world” happened. The occasion has been circled on the calendar in my head since the day that it occurred. I know that the media is going to have a field day with questions after the game. So, I’ve already decided to go to the stadium earlier than usual, in hopes that I can avoid any more press than I’m required to talk to.

Charlie and I are avoiding discussing the anniversary. It’s just another game. Another Sunday. My girl in the stands, cheering me on. Just another sixty minutes of football, and hopefully another game in the win column.