Chapter 29: Cute Titties

*WoW!*

I walk inside and my mouth drops down as if I time-traveled to the twentieth century. The house looks like a sandcastle I used to make with my friends.

Its interior is themed of wood and pastel color stones. The ceiling is high more than my standard with roof tall windows. The ventilation of the house feels like a gaping yard as every room opens either to the courtyard or patio.

The dining room table is big enough to accommodate ten people. The table has a hard marble top with chairs all high back with cushions on them.

The kitchen is wide and very modern. On the wall, there are two ovens with bricks around them. The center island with a flat top stop on one side and a place to eat on the other.

There are blue and white china plates already assembled on the table with bowls and saucers. Everything seems cooked and ready to eat.

We sat down at the dinner table, while they discussed in Italian I focused on my aglio pasta and chicken. I would look up and smile once in a while so they won’t feel awkward with my bitch face.

“Allora dimmi, chi si è innamorato per primo?” Marget looks at us excitedly. *( So tell me, who fell in love first?)*

“Huh?” I jerk my eyebrows up with pasta in my mouth, I look at my fake husband for help as he fake laughs, “Naturalmente lei.” *(Of course, her.)*

“What?” I whisper ask Ceasar after gulping the most creamy pasta of my life. “She is asking how we met.” He translates her eagerness for me.

*Ah… I see.*

“Let me tell you, it was a dark night in April,” I begin with a feverish smirk, “I was walking alone on the street and that’s when I saw him, dressed all in black.”

Ceasar’s spoon frosts in mid-air as he keenly listens to me, “With silent steps, I followed the most beautiful-expensive looking man I ever saw. But after stalking him for a few blocks, I got impatient,”

I pause dramatically and they all stare at me avidly, “So I walked up to him with muted steps and stayed close to him coz he smelled so good. Then slowly I put my hand inside the back pocket of his pants to feel something hard in between my fingers..”

Ceasar’s glare turns hard as a stone as I take a suspensive off to say, “But as soon as I pulled out his purse, he caught my hand and pulled me towards his chest and said in the most raspiest voice… You didn’t pick my pocket, you picked my heart. Marry me, senorita!”

“I was so bored so I said him yes.” I finish my story with a proud smirk.

Whereas Habibi looks unimpressed, his eyes are narrowed and sharp like a knife’s edge as they pierce through me brutally while I cutely smile at him.

“Dicci.” The old couple impatiently waits for the translator to speak.

Ceasar sighs as he takes a deep breath before saying, “Ci siamo incontrati in un bar, dove vado regolarmente. Mi si avvicinò e mi disse quanto fossi bello e mi chiese il mio numero di telefono.” *(We met in a café, where I regularly go. She walked up to me and told me how handsome I look and begged for my phone number.)*

I stare at the motherfucker wondering what the hell is he telling them as he waves his hands in the air as if he is cleaning windows,

“Un giorno ho visto accidentalmente foto di me sulle pareti della sua camera da letto. C'erano collage di me ritagliati dai giornali ovunque, compreso il suo bagno.” *(One day I accidentally saw pictures of me all over her bedroom walls. There were collages of me cut out from newspapers everywhere, including her bathroom.)*

“Ha confessato di amarmi da matti e il suo sogno è diventare moglie. Ho capito il suo vero amore e ho accettato la sua proposta. E il resto è solo storia.” Ceasar pats my head like a dog as he completes the story.

*(She confessed she loves me like crazy and her dream is to be wife. I realized her true love and accepted her proposal. And the rest is just history.)*

The old couple nods their head feeling impressed by me. I smile at them and focus on my pasta, though I really doubt what this psycho banana told them.

After dinner, Marget gives me a little tour of the house. Finally, she shows me my room and I melt like butter as soon as I let my body fall on the soft mattress of the bed. I hug the soft blanket that mildly smells of lavender which soothes my sore muscles and aching senses.

*Click*

The door of the bathroom opens and Ceasar walks out just in his grey tracks and completely drenched. His tracks are hung below his hips that I can clearly see his V that disappears inside his jams.

*This hot pumpkin!*

“What are you doing here?” I jerk up and freak the fuck out. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair to his neck and slowly runs down to his sturdy built tits.

*Oh…*

My eyes fall down on the bump of his track pants that reaches to the mid of his thighs and looks anomalously thick.

*Oh god! Can you stop making assholes hot?*

“What do you mean? It’s my room.” Ceasar educates me as he throws the used towel around his neck and walks towards the bed with a sexy frown face.

“Bu-bu-t-t Marget said this is my room.” My voice comes out tiny and submissive in front of the large wet wolf. Water droplets drip from his skin like morning dew slips from a polished leaf *oh so* tenderly.

“My room.” Ceasar utters in a husky voice, his grey eyes darkly hold mine as he leans down on the bed and bluntly states, “My house. And my bed.” His deep whisper calls me poor in many ways.

*Bitch!*

“You can sleep on the floor wifey if you can’t control yourself beside me.” I watch him place his ass next to me on the bed with a smirk. I roll my eyes.

“Antarctica is hot compared to you, hubby.” I scoff at his arrogant ass.

“Then why are you drooling over my chest baby?” He chuckles in his deep husky voice as he catches me looking at his small brown-pinkish nipples that stand erect in front of my eyes.

Damn those titties!

Cute little buddies.

Hanging on his chest,

One on East, another on West.

“Listen girl,” My eyes lock on his grey eyeballs as he smoothly slides inside the blanket, “If you wanna have sex with me, all you have to do is ask.” He advises like a manager on job.

“You know I am not interested.” I spat nonchalantly as I try not to look at his tiddies again.

“You know I stay longer than a white crayon.” His minty hot breath fans on my ear that gives me spooky chills.

“Listen mister,” I snap my eyes darkly at him, “I would rather do it with a dildo than with a never used crayon like you.”

Okay, I lied.

Maybe I want him inside.

But I’ll never tell this burrito,

Coz I wanna crush his ego.

“What color?”

“Color? What color?” I ask him in delusion. The last nerve cells of my brain are sizzling as they try to cope up with his bipolarity.

Ceasar leans down to his elbow as he asks me with a serious face, “What color dildo you would use instead of me?” His smug asshole face lights up as he scans my face and hair for answers.

Oh my Guinness world record!

Where the hell is my sword?

In the name of the sweet lord,

I'll slice this lousy under_score!

“Get lost.” Anger creeps in me and I hit Ceasar with a pillow right below his nose that made him throw his head back in surprise.

His annoying chuckles fill the room while I continue to hit the sexy motherfucker with my pillow.

“Hahah! Come on wifey. I’ll bring you one as I am leaving for Malta tomorrow anyway.” He cooes in his deeper seductive voice while hugging me from the back.

“Pink or purple?”

*This mothercooker!*

Fuming rage pulses through my hot veins as I try to kick his tentacles that are wrapped around me in a death grip.

“Bish, leave!” I growl as droplets from his wet hair drizzle over me, making my t-shirt wet. My skin prickle with goosebumps feeling his hips almost touching mine.

“First tell me what color dildo you want?” Ceasar playfully sneers as he tightly hugs me from behind, making me feel his hard and warm pulsating chest.

“Over my hot dead body.” I wiggle under him as he tries to put his weight on me.

"It's pink, isn't it?"

*Bitch die!!!!!*