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The dial on the scale spun back and forth for several seconds, working hard to decide just how judgmental it wanted to be.
I did have those three tacos for dinner last night, but I skipped the sour cream. Surely that earned me something.
I narrowed my eyes at it and the line settled at a spot somewhere between 142 and 143.
Okay, not so bad.
I released my breath, and it jumped up to 144.
What the hell?!
It was definitely time to switch from the analog to the digital, but I was old-fashioned and loved vintage things. Televisions with the knobs, 1960s style phones with rotary dials, floral wallpaper… yup, I had issues.
Not to mention, my love for traditional things didn’t end at decor. It carried on into my marriage. Vows meant something to me, and I had this delusional idea that my marriage could, and would, last forever.
Which is why at one point come hell or high water, I fought to remain with my husband. I refused to let my marriage fall, not realizing that it takes both people to keep a commitment alive. I couldn’t keep someone that didn’t want to be kept.
And now, my way of thinking had changed. It was time for an upgrade, including wardrobe, decor and spouse.
Soon. Very soon.
“Are you staring at that scale again?” Elijah asked. “I told you, the numbers won’t magically fix themselves. You’ve got to go to the gym.”
Elijah was sitting up in bed, with his eyes glued to his work tablet. He was only wearing his boxer briefs and socks, and I had to admit he was still very attractive.
Even in his mid-thirties, the football player’s body he sported in college had remained intact and his good looks hadn’t faded a bit. Unfortunately for me, neither had his arrogance.
I closed my eyes and swallowed my snappy response.
“It’s no big deal,” I said in a chipper tone. “I’m only around ten pounds heavier than college. I will keep on with my healthy meals and at home work out videos.”
Elijah rolled over and sat up.
“Fat is fat, Bree. Don’t sugarcoat it. Besides, you don’t see me needing to adjust my belt size. Change starts in the mind.”
I said nothing, but my eyes dropped to the floor, and my shoulders slumped in defeat.
“Come on, don’t be like that. I’m just trying to help you out. Make time for yourself. Stick to the goal. Live your vision.”
He was coaching me like I was one of his damn athletes.
I gave him a weak smile, folded my arms protectively across my body and spoke in a voice slightly above a whisper.
Intimidated woman activated.
“I know. It’s just hard to make time for myself. There is always so much to do around the house and with the kids. I thought I was doing a pretty good job.”
“Pretty good isn’t good enough,” he mumbled under his breath.
Then, noticing me still standing, he sighed and reached out a hand, coaxing me to bed. Which meant he wanted sex.
Elijah’s affection came at a price. Uplifting me, encouraging me or even showing the slightest bit of interest these days meant he wanted something. Since it was 7am on a Sunday morning. I would bet that something was sex.
I placed one knee on the bed and got in. The damn thing had the nerve to creak at the added weight, as if I wasn’t taking enough shit from my husband.
I remember when we used to wake up early on the weekends, before the kids to spend time together. We would talk about our days, our plans, and how much we wanted to see and do in life together.
I don’t know if my recollection is off, or if I had over romanticized it, but I thought we were happy. It was something I looked forward to.
Now I was grateful when I woke up and he was gone.
“You see, Bree, that’s the thing. Sarah has had four kids, and she looks immaculate. If she did it, I know you can.”
Was this man still talking shit to me about my weight!?
Sarah was his assistant and the first woman I caught him cheating on me with. Expectantly, I was livid, but I also had my marriage and Zoey, five at the time, to consider.
Elijah apologized and promised that it would never happen again, but of course, it did. With a mortgage broker, a salon owner, a mom from Zoey’s school, then again with… actually, I lost track.
Anyway, it was ballsy for him to bring her up, especially since he still worked with Sarah. But if I started an argument about it, he would do what he always did, flip the tables on me…
“Bree, I made a mistake. Are we seriously going to keep living in the past? Plus, Sarah works for me. We have a professional relationship. Am I simply supposed to ignore her and risk jeopardizing my career over your insecurities?”
I took Elijah’s hand in mine and squeezed a little too tight, wishing it was another part of his body I could apply dangerous pressure to. However, he didn’t seem to notice.
“I’ll keep that in mind, honey,” I replied.
Elijah smiled, satisfied that I wasn’t pressing the issue any further.
“You know what I want?” He said.
Shaking my head, I pretended not to know.
“The kids aren’t up yet and a nice long blowjob would be a perfect way to start my day.”
My eyes shifted towards the door. “Are you sure? They might be up any minute.”
In a very smooth attempt to win me over, Elijah pulled me on top of him, flattened my chest to his, then squeezed my ass.
“Come on, live a little. I’ll make sure I’m quick.”
There was a pause on my end as I battled internally before giving in.
“You know what?” I whispered with a grin. “There is something I wanted to try, and now would be the perfect time.”
Elijah released me and placed his hands behind his head.
“Alright, then. Let’s have it.”
I got out of bed and held up one finger. “I’ll be right back.”
Slipping out the door, I headed to the kitchen, the cool tiled floor chilling my bare feet as I crept to the fridge.
All the while, I silently prayed that Grayson or Ariel didn’t wake up. If they did, they would seek me out immediately.
Zoey, on the other hand, would remain in her room until I found a way to convince her to come out.
I’d been waiting three weeks for Elijah to show interest in me. I needed this opportunity.
Opening the fridge, I grabbed a medium-sized grapefruit and made quick work of cutting a hole in the center. I was moving so fast I damn near cut myself, but survived unscathed.
When I was done, I made a circle with my thumb and pointer finger, and placed it over the hole.
I’d jacked Elijah off enough times over the course of our marriage that my hands had developed muscle memory as it pertained to his size. The cut was a perfect fit!
I held the grapefruit at eye-level and peered straight through. It wouldn’t be deep enough to cover his entire penis, but if everything went smoothly, it wouldn’t need to be.
Note to self: try this with Ryan.
After cleaning up the mess from the grapefruit, I put the knife in the dishwasher and went upstairs to surprise my awaiting husband.
Elijah immediately sat up when he saw what I was holding. This had been a dream of his ever since, Matteo, Gianna’s husband, let it slip that she used a grapefruit on him during a blowjob and how amazing it felt.
In response, Elijah commented I was “Too boring to do anything so kinky” and I never forgot how left out that must have made him feel.
My poor husband simply wanted in on the fun, and today, he could have it all.
“Are you going to do what I think you are?” he asked excitedly.
Elijah needed no further response or persuading. Yanking down his boxers, he tossed them to the floor and relaxed back onto the pillow.
Positioning myself between his legs, I said, “You just sit back. I got this.”
Placing the grapefruit carefully over his dick, I pulled it down inch by inch until the head popped through.
Elijah moaned with pleasure and I took that as my cue to begin.
Covering the tip of his penis with my mouth, I fought hard to not think about all the women he’d been inside, and pretended to enjoy it. I kept my mouth stationary and let the grapefruit do most of the work as I glided it up and down his dick with ease, coating him with the sticky citrus juice.
“Yes, Bree! That feels so good!”
The sour taste oozed past my lips as I pumped his erection faster and harder. Eventually, I decided I couldn’t have him in my mouth a second longer, so I sat up and focused all my attention on using the fruit to finish the job.
Elijah didn’t seem to notice. He was already too far gone, and I thanked God that the task, at my literal hand, would be over soon.
True to his word, for once, Elijah came quick, jerking and gripping the covers as his cum coated the top of the unlucky grapefruit.
I lifted it free and his dick fell limply to the side. The left side, to be exact. It, too, was predictable.
“That… was… amazing,” he huffed.
I smiled and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Then, getting up from the bed, I carefully balanced the fruit so that none of his cum dripped over the sides and headed toward the door.
“I’ll go discard this and get breakfast started.”
It took him a moment, but he finally said, “I’ll take my usual.”
“Of course,” I replied over my shoulder, turning the knob.
Back in the kitchen, I placed the grapefruit on the counter and collected all the items needed for Elijah’s beloved breakfast smoothie.
As I add each item to the blender, the cruelty of what I was about to do forced me to recall a rather unforgettable experience from grade school.
One cup of almond milk.
When I was in second grade. My teacher, Mrs. Bland, took us to the principal’s office one Thursday morning to watch a snake eat a mouse. All the kids, especially the boys, thought it was so cool, but I didn’t share their sentiments.
It was disgusting, cruel and a little barbaric for seven-year-olds, if you ask me.
Half a cup of strawberries and three blueberries.
In went the tiny white mouse, with its red beady eyes deep down into the giant glass tank. It seemed calm in the beginning, exploring its new environment with fascination and joy. Little did he know it was time for the show to begin.
The snake perked up, realizing that there was something in its midst that wasn’t there moments before. Unfortunately, the mouse senses it too, a looming darkness that it can’t avoid.
Now, defenseless and terrified, the mouse rushes to the corner of the tank and huddles, shaking, scratching, desperately seeking a way out.
1 table spoon of almond butter
But the mouse doesn’t make it. He isn’t smart enough, fast enough or lucky enough to survive the predator and I watch him, with my innocent seven-year-old eyes, vanish from sight.
One quarter cup of greek yogurt.
But why did the mouse have to die I always wondered? Wasn’t there some artificial snake food that big slimy could have gulped up instead? I didn’t understand then, but I do now.
Those that can’t fight back fall to the bottom of the food chain, where the snakes of the world will devour you.
Half a cup of baby spinach.
I think of that mouse often. Replaying the unfair treatment, the look of panic in its eyes, and the torturous death. I wish I could turn back the hands of time and stand up for him.
Picking up the grapefruit, I tilt it ever so slightly and watch Elijah’s semen drizzle into the plastic cylinder, covering a leaf of spinach. Placing the lid on the blender, I press the start button and watch it go.
This one’s for you, mouse.
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