Focus, dammit! Don’t think about what her pussy looks like. Don’t drool wondering if it’s shaved or full-on bush, trimmed or cut into a neat little design like a lightning bolt or arrow pointing down. Move your eyes up, asshole!

“We could talk, sure,” Molly says softly, her fingers playing with the hem of her dress that stops at the top of her thighs.

Fuck, her legs are so long and smooth with just a hint of muscle definition that assures me she could wrap them around my shoulders and hold on for dear life.

GAAAAAAAAAH, FOCUS! I’m Alfanso D., I’m Alfanso D. Just get it over with!

“Great! Perfect,” I reply with a clap of my hands, entirely too excited to sit down and talk instead of sitting down and burying my face in her vagina. “How about we sit on the couch and talk.”

And then I’ll bury my face in your vagina.

“How about you start talking and I’ll get comfortable.”

Mentally screaming at my dick to take a nap for a few minutes instead of trying to claw his way through my zipper, I smile and take a step towards the couch, figuring Molly is going to take her shoes off and put her feet up on the coffee table to get comfortable or something.

I barely take one step towards the couch before my feet refuse to move and I freeze like a deer caught in headlights.

When Molly said she’d get comfortable, she really meant it. In one smooth, quick motion, she grabs the hem of her dress and quickly slides the material up and off her body, tossing it to the side where it lands in a puddle on the carpet.

“Sweet baby back ribs,” I whisper.

Molly crosses one leg in front of the other and casually clasps her hands together behind her ass, the motion pushing her tits out until I’m pretty sure I feel a little drool dripping down my chin.

She’s wearing a black lace thong and a matching black lace strapless bra, the material so sheer I can see her nipples. And Land O’Lakes what wonderful nipples they are.

“Do you still want to talk or is there something else you’d rather do?” she asks innocently.

Talk? What’s talk? Who said talk? Do I know the word talk?

“I might have a few ideas, but I think I need a little more inspiration,” I tell her quietly, surprised I’m able to unglue my tongue from the top of my mouth and remember how to string words together.

Her hands move up behind her back and she expertly unclasps the hook of her bra, the sheer black lace dropping from her body to land at her feet.

“Damn, you’re like a ninja with that thing,” I whisper, unable to remove my eyes from her naked tits. “It takes me at least five tries to unhook a bra. It’s like I have giant gorilla fingers whenever I get near those damn things.”

Okay, I know I said I wanted to talk, but this is just pathetic. Why am I rambling about gorilla fingers when there’s a half-naked woman in my living room with the best pair of tits this side of the Mississippi. And the other side of the Mississippi. And all down the fucking Mississippi.

STOP THINKING ABOUT MISSISSIPPI AND START THINKING ABOUT TITS, YOU PUSSY!

While I’m busy standing in the middle of my living room having an argument in my head, Molly walks towards me until she’s right in front of me. She slides her hands around my waist and presses her naked body against me. I can feel her nipples poking into my pecs, and I swear I hear the sound of my zipper ripping to shreds as my dick tries to hulk his way out of my jeans and into the Promised Land.

My head finally catches up with my body and I move my hands to her hips, sliding them around to clutch her smooth, perfect ass.

“I’m just going to apologize ahead of time for ruining this,” I whisper.

“Why would you ruin this?” she asks, pressing her hips against mine and gently kissing my chin.

“I mean, I wouldn’t ruin it, but I’m pretty sure my dick will,” I mutter, moaning softly when she kisses a trail across my jaw and to my neck.

“My dick is an asshole and never listens to me. You’re so fucking hot and beautiful, and I’m pretty positive he’s going to ignore all the baseball stats and college football teams I can name in alphabetical order and come in about five seconds if you keep doing that,” I ramble in one long incoherent sentence, moaning again when she wraps her lips around my earlobe and gently tugs on it with her teeth. “Fucking hell, you’re so good at this.”

Her lips immediately disappear from my ear and she leans back just enough so I can see her face. Gone is the confidence and determination I love so much and in its place is the same nervous and scared look she had when she first walked into my kitchen.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Was it the dick thing? I was just kidding. Sort of. I mean, I’ve always been able to last as long as I need to, but I’ve never been with someone I fantasized about for two years. I’m having a hard time believing this isn’t a dream, but I promise I’ll try my best to keep my dick in line,” I over-explain.

She laughs softly and shakes her head. “It’s stupid, but I need to tell you something. Ava told me to tell you but Charlotte told me to keep my mouth shut because it would ruin everything, but I can’t do it. I am really out of my element here and Ava even made me practice this in front of the mirror until I could do it without rolling my eyes or covering myself up but I still feel like a liar and a hypocrite and I don’t want to keep this from you because I really like you. I more than like you. I’m just going to spit out and if you want me to leave, I’ll understand.”

I don’t feel so bad anymore about the whole gorilla fingers thing when Molly rambles without taking a breath and it just makes me want to stick her in my pocket and keep her forever. You know, if Harry Potter were a real person and he’d let me borrow his wand to make her tiny. But there would have to be a reverse spell where I could make her big again so she’d have normal-size hands and a normal-size mouth and a normal-size vagina because I might not have a dick the size of a python, but I’m pretty sure it could still kill a teeny tiny Molly that fits in my pocket.

Mental patient, party of me, your padded cell is now available.

Removing one hand from her ass, I bring it between us and under her chin, tipping her face up so she’ll stop staring at a spot in the middle of my chest and look at me.

“No matter what you tell me, I would never make you leave, Molly. Don’t you get it? Don’t you see what you’ve done to me?” I rasp. “I’ve never been this crazy or this tied up in knots before and it’s all because of you. Because you’re just as amazing as I thought you’d be when I first saw you in the school kitchen with powdered sugar on your cheek and more talent in your pinky finger than the entire class put together.”

I see tears pooling in her eyes and it makes my heart skip a beat, which I’m pretty sure might be a sign of a stroke or possibly a heart attack but since I still have feeling in my left arm, I’m just going to ignore it.

“I think I’ve been in love with you since that very first day when the entire class groaned after I said we’d be starting with sugar sculptures and your eyes lit up in excitement,” I tell her with a smile. “I know it’s crazy, and I know we’re in the middle of a shit show situation with your family, and I know we’ve only spent a few weeks together, but I’m falling in love with you Molly Gilmore. I love how much you care about your insane family, even if you try to deny it. I love your talent in the kitchen, and I love that you’re a hard ass with everyone but me. I love your smile and your laugh and how you smell like apples and cinnamon and how being with you is as easy as breathing.”

She closes her eyes to stop the tears from falling, opening them right back up to roll them at me in that fucking adorable way I love so much.