Fifty Shames of Earl Grey: A Parody Fanny Merkin (the giving tree read aloud TXT) 📖

“Let’s get comfortable, shall we?” he says, removing his calculator watch and setting it on top of the nightstand by the bed.

I take a cue from him and remove my yellow LiveStrong bracelet, setting it next to his watch.

“Let’s get even more comfortable, hmmmm?” he says, removing his pink Crocs.

I remove my tennis shoes and nearly choke on the smell of my own dirty socks. They’ve been through a lot in the past two days. If Earl can smell them, he doesn’t give any indication. I just hope he’s not a foot fetishist.

“That’s not quite comfortable enough, though,” he says, grinning. I still cannot believe that this attractive, kinky man is interested in me.

“Oh, it’s not, is it?” I say playfully, putting my arms up the back of my shirt, unhooking my bra, and twisting out of it like it’s a straitjacket. I dangle my red push-up bra off the end of a finger and toss it at Earl.

He catches it. “Oh my, Anna,” he says. He drops my bra to the floor, and reaches his own hands up underneath his black T-shirt. Thirty seconds of fumbling around later, Earl pulls a lacy black bra out from under his shirt. “Two can play at this game,” he says with a wicked flash of wickedness.

“Were you wearing that since we left the hotel?” I ask.

“I told you I’m kinky, baby,” he says. There’s an awkward pause. “Let’s just get naked. Ready, set . . . go!”

We strip the rest of our clothes off at record speed. Soon, we’re both as naked as the day we were born. Except, y’know, we’re not covered in blood and attached to our mothers by umbilical cords.

I run my eyes up and down Earl Grey’s breathtaking body, and my eyes stop to rest on his magnificent length. I want to grab it, swing it around, and bite into it—but, somehow, I’m able to contain myself. It’s probably for the best, because I don’t think Earl wants bite marks on his little milkman.

I’m not the only one checking someone out—Earl is taking in every inch of my body with his gray eyes. I feel naked before him, mostly because I don’t have any clothes on.

“You’re beautiful, Anna,” he says.

I’m not good at taking compliments, but I try my best. “You’re more beautiful,” I say.

“I know,” he says. “You ready to do this?”

“Absolutely.”

Earl Grey takes my hand and guides me onto the waterbed . . .

Chapter Twelve

WOW, that was amazing,” I say, sprawled out on my back in Earl Grey’s bed.

“Thank you,” he says. “I’ve never had three orgasms in a row before just holding someone’s hand and sitting down on a bed. I can’t imagine what the actual sex is going to be like.”

“You don’t have to imagine,” I say.

“You’re right,” he says. He’s hovering over me again, but this time we’re both naked. I can feel his stick shift delectably pressing into my stomach. Kathleen would call him a “Trent Reznor,” since he has a nine-inch nail. (Don’t worry—I don’t get her references either.)

My nipples are hard, either from my heightened state of arousal or because it’s a little chilly in the Dorm Room of Doom.

“I want you so bad,” Earl says, “but I’m going to make you wait.”

“Haven’t we waited long enough?” I say.

“I’m going to kiss every part of your body,” he says. “Starting with your feet and working my way up . . .”

Quintuple crap.

“How about if you start a little higher, like at my knees maybe?” I say.

“Anna, there’s no need to be shy,” he says, backing himself down the bed toward the lower part of my body. He kneels at the foot of the bed and bends over my feet. “I love your scent, Anna,” he says, placing his nose an inch away from my toes and inhaling deeply. His eyes grow wide with surprise. “But, perhaps, I shall start with your knees. Good idea.”

He kisses my kneecaps, which is a little weird, because there aren’t many nerve endings there. Or the skin is too callused. I don’t know—like I ever look at my knees? When he moves his lips to the back of my knees, raising my legs slightly to accommodate his mouth, I let out a yelp. It tickles. Maybe kissing every single part of my body isn’t the way to get me ready for his meatsicle.

He moves on to kissing my quads, and before long I feel his lips on the insides of my thighs . . . Now we’re getting somewhere. When his mouth is a half-inch away from my lady parts, though, Earl Grey skips up to my belly. “Are you teasing me?” I say.

“Whatever do you mean, Miss Steal?” he says, flashing me that toothy grin and winking.

He continues his exploration of my body, finally reaching my bust. He flicks his tongue at one of my aching nipples to wet it, and then blows on it. Just when I think he’s done toying with it, he clamps his mouth down and begins sucking greedily. My nipples are now so hard they could cut diamonds. Earl looks up at me and smiles.

“Your lip!” I say. “It’s bleeding.”

He pats his lip and looks at his hand. Oh no . . . He cut his lip on my hardened point!

“I guess I won’t be going down on you today,” he says, sighing.

“Do you have AIDS or something?” I say.

“Not anymore,” he says.

“I give blood every three months,” I say. “I’ve never had sex. I’m pretty sure I’m clean.”

“I want to taste you, Anna, and I will. Another day, preferably after my lip is healed.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

Earl places one of his long fingers on my lips and I instinctively begin sucking it. He withdraws his finger and I watch him slowly approach my sex, hidden deep within my untamed thatch of pubic hair. His hand disappears into my pubes, and he searches for my love button.

Ah! Oh. He’s found it. This feels . . . good.

“Do you