My Best Friend's Ex(50)

"Tucker?"

I stand and hold the first aid box in front of her. "Got it." When I see the bewildered expression on her face, I ask, "What's up?"



       
         
       
        

"You're, uh, you're wearing tighty-whities."

I take in my apparel. "No, I'm not. I'm wearing briefs and they're black. Tighty-whities are for grandpas with saggy asses and liver spots."

She scans me again, a pull in her brow, "But, they're bikini cut."

I roll my eyes. "They're not fucking bikini cut, whatever the fuck that is. They're regular briefs." I slip my fingers in the waistline and snap the elastic.

"I thought you wore boxer briefs." She's now nibbling on her finger, still scanning my body.

"I do. I wear both. Underwear models wear these all the time. Hell, David Beckham wears these." No idea what her issue is. They keep everything snug; sometimes it's nice to not have your cock turning into a propeller in your pants.

From the way her eyes are eating me whole, for the first time, I feel exposed around her. And if she keeps it up with those sultry eyes, she's going to be feeling just as exposed as I am. That would be when I rip off her clothing.

"Oh. They're um, they're nice." She turns away and stares at her feet.

Not going to work, sweet Emma. I lift her chin so she's forced to make eye contact. "Nice? That's all? They're just nice? I'm standing here, in front of you, being a sexy male nurse for your toe in a pair of very snug briefs and all you have to say is they're nice?"

"Wh-what do you want me to say?" She shivers. "That I like your man thigh? That your abs are unfair to look at because they're so well defined? That those things," she gestures to the V in my waist, "are like valleys headed straight to your penis? That I can clearly see the definition of your dick, including your meatus, and it's . . . it's . . ." She stumbles. "It's thick." She presses her hand against her forehead as her cheeks redden. "Oh God, you have thick dick." Is that a compliment? It almost sounds like a disease, like Elephantitus.

"Uh, thank you?"

"Thick dick. You have a thick dick. Of course, you're Mr. Thick Dick, what else would you be? Skinny Minnie Ween-Ween? No, you're thick dick." Her hands are now in her hair, pulling on the strands, acting on the border of insanity and losing her ever-loving mind. Still muttering, she shakes her head and says, "Thick dick in the tight black bikini bottoms."

"They're not . . ." I huff out my frustration. "They're not fucking bikini bottoms. They're normal briefs."

She shakes her head. "Not for thick dick and milky man thighs." Milky? More like manly man thighs. I do squats. She hops off the counter in her fit of insanity and then starts hopping on one leg. "Shit, my toe." Still hopping, she pushes off my chest with her hand and propels herself out of the bathroom. 

"Where are you going? Let me fix your foot."

"Nope, nope, nope. I'm good. Just . . . go upstairs and put pants on. No one wants you walking around with your scrotum dangling between your legs." It does that every fucking day. What's the difference?

"Well, it's not going to dangle from my ears like earrings, babe. The scrotum is kind of a set thing."

She makes it to her bedroom and slams her door shut. Well . . . fuck. She was the one who woke me up, the one who disturbed my slumber. She's not just going to hobble away like that. No way.

Not caring what she's doing on the other side of the door, I fling it open and see her sitting on her bed, rocking back and forth on her hands. "Emma-"

"Tucker, I'm going to stop you right there. It's been a pretty humiliating night for me, with the fall and the staring and the thick-dick mumbling. I would like to just move on from this moment and forget it all happened. I don't want to hash it out with you." She glances up at me and says, "Rule number eight, no mentioning thick dick . . . ever."

"But-"

"Hey, rule number six." She lifts an eyebrow at me to acknowledge what she agreed to when it came to the rule I set.

I grit my teeth and move my jaw back and forth. "Fine. Do you need help with your foot?"

"No." She keeps her eyes trained on the floor, dismissing me.

Fuck me. I want to talk about this little encounter, about the oddity of it all, and about those damn wandering eyes of hers that have this thick dick getting thicker by the second. But I'm going to respect her wish and push her in other ways.

She might have dismissed me tonight, but this is far from over.