6 comments/ 36813 views/ 4 favorites Princess & Her Friend, Average Joe By: PositiveThinker I had flowers in one hand and candy with a Valentine's Day card in the other. "Happy Valentine's Day, Princess," I said with a big smile as soon as she answered the door. I handed her the white roses, Godiva chocolates, and her Valentine's Day card. I leaned in for my reward hoping to kiss her on the lips, but I kissed her on the cheek instead, when she rolled her eyes and turned her head before giving me a look of annoyed indifference. Had this been the first time she acted like this to me, I'd be hurt, but I've grown accustomed to her rude behavior. It all comes with my idolization of her. I must enjoy being treated like a dog to continue this futile charade. As soon as I walked in her house, I knew there was something wrong. It was obvious by her melancholy mood. It was Saturday, her shopping day, and normally she's excited about showing me what she bought. I've never seen someone who has so many pair of shoes. Oh, poor, pitiful Princess, more drama, no doubt. What else is new? Now what? What can possibly be wrong this time? Did she break a fingernail or did she gain a pound? Unfortunately, to listen to her bitch is the price I pay to remain in her company. Only, I can't help myself. If I thought with my brain, I wouldn't know why I'm still friends with her. Unfortunately, I'm a guy and guys don't think with their brains. We think with our penises and she just has to flash me those baby blues, as well as any part of her bodacious body, to make me do anything. With her in my life, with her as my special, albeit one-sided Valentine, I was excited about Valentine's Day and couldn't wait to give her the candy, flowers, and card I had bought. I paid extra for this beautiful bouquet. Only, her bitter mood not only promised to wilt the flowers but also promised to ruin my good mood and this special day. I never expected her to be in a bad mood on Valentine's Day. She's always loved this special day of love for lovers. She was so transparent. So self-absorbed and so self-centered, it was always all about her. The fact that she was like that endeared her to me. I have no explanation. I only know that she makes me crazy with sexual excitement. Notwithstanding my feelings for her, I was always amazed at the lengths she'd go to gratify herself. Only, she should have a problem. She'll never change. She'll always be high maintenance. Even though she made me feel that I was no more important to her than a fashion accessory or a pair of her shoes, I was still in love with her and have been in love with her for five, long, frustrating years. I'm invisible to her. She doesn't hear me when I talk. She doesn't laugh at my jokes. Excited about her uninteresting day, she talks over me most times. She's so rude and I'm so abused. In the way that she looks and in the way that she acts, she could have been one of those models on that new reality television show produced by Ashton Kutcher and Tyra Banks, True Beauty. She doesn't want me. In the way that I imagine I connect with her, she doesn't connect with me on that level or on any level that is not about her. It took me a while to realize that she only needs me when she needs a favor or has furniture to move. I know that now. So long as I don't steal any of her limelight, so long as I cater to her, she'll continue to like me, but only as a friend and she always makes sure she introduces me as that. "This is my friend, Joe." She never says this is my boyfriend, Joe. She never says this is Joe. If she introduced me as Joe, there might be some confusion with people thinking that I was her boyfriend. She makes sure there's no confusion by introducing me as her friend, Joe, dumb Joe the sucker, that's me, average Joe. This is my lap dog, Joe, is how she should introduce me. Sit Joe. Stay. Roll over, Joe. Play dead. All I need to fit that role is a collar and leash. It may not be so bad to be her real lap dog if she disciplined me every now and then. I'd allow her to spank me, so long as I could kiss her feet, while looking up her short skirt, that is. I'd allow her to beat me, so long as she stripped me naked first. I follow her around too much like a puppy with my cock hardening instead of my tail wagging and my tongue hanging hoping she'll take the hint and French kiss me. Her dog gets more affection and attention than I do. Logically it doesn't make sense that I continue this fruitless friendship when I know it will never go any further and I'll be the one hurt, but I can't help myself. With love in my heart and lust in my head, I hunger for her and always leave her starved with the empty feelings of a hungry man who sees food, a banquet, through a window, but is never invited to eat. Never feeling full or satisfied, always I leave her presence frustrated. I don't know what it is, but there is something about her that makes me wild enough with desire to continue to play this lonely, lopsided, and convoluted game. I know I'm a jackass for still hanging around and still harboring the false hope that she'll see the light and want me, one day. She put the flowers, candy, and card down on the table in the reception hall by the front door and walked stiffly in her room. It was obvious by her body language and slow movements that her little world had come to an end. I stared after her mesmerized by the rhythmic movement of her hips. She has such a wonderful ass. Then, when she disappeared in her room, I cast a glance down at the Valentine's Day card with her name written in bold, Princess, remembering how much time I spent visiting three different card stores and browsing through hundreds of cards to find just the right one. Excited about it before, I just wanted to chuck it in the trash now, but I didn't. It was a special Valentine's Day card, in which I poured out my heart by writing the love filled sentiment that I wanted her to read. I was nervous and I was excited. It was the first time that I had written something so revealing. I told her I loved her. I told her I wanted her. I told her that I needed her in my life. Gees, in hindsight, now that I think of it, I practically proposed to her. The card was perfect, though. It had a photo of two kids dressed as adults holding hands and kissing. The kids reminded me of us when we were that age. She liked me then. She even confessed to her friend Carol that she had a crush on me, but I wasn't interested in girls back then. Besides, she looked much different then, than she does now. Skinny without curves, she had braces, pimples, and knobby knees. She wasn't so hot. Back then, all the girls thought I was cute. Not much taller then, than I am now. I'm not as cute as I once was. She was my perceived Valentine and I imagined her reading my Valentine Card and being so touched by my romantic honesty that she'd kiss me, French kiss me, before stripping off our clothes to make passionate love and proclaiming our love for one another. It took me weeks to write, rewrite, and edit what I wrote before I copied it to the card in my best penmanship. Only, she didn't even open the card. She didn't read what I wrote. Oh, well, so much for that. I'm used to her brushing me aside and stepping on my feelings. Even if she read my sentiments of love and commitment, she'd laugh it off as a joke. "Oh, Joe, you're such a clown. Oh, Joe, that's so funny what you wrote." Always, it makes me feel better buying her a card and pretending that she's mine. At least I'm able to live out my fantasy in the card store. Pretending that she's my girlfriend closes the empty hole that I have in my heart, a wound that she reopens and pours salt in, as soon as she's mean to me by ignoring me or saying something insensitive to hurt my feelings. Nonetheless, roaming the aisles of the card store, I actually feel as if she's my girlfriend. It's amazing the extremes that those who love unrequitedly will go through just to remain in contact with the one they adore. I'd be the best boyfriend she ever had, if only she'd give me the chance. I'm such a fool to continue to believe that she will. I walked to the kitchen and grabbed a vase, filled it with water and arranged the flowers, and left them where she could see them from her room when she emerged. Then, I opened the box of candy and took a chocolate truffle, my favorite. Mmm, it was so good. Heaven is the delicious sensation of a Godiva chocolate truffle. The dark chocolate did well to temporarily sooth my hurt feelings of rejection. I assuaged my unfulfilled feelings of lust for her by temporarily transferring how I felt about her to the candy. It was a meaningful manifestation of mind of matter and a transferal of emotion that I have grown accustomed to doing, whenever in her presence. If only she'd see me for the man that I am. If only we had more of a relationship. If only she was made of chocolate, I'd lick her before taking a big bite out of her ass. Sugar and spice and everything nice, if only her ingredients were chocolate liquor, cacao beans, and vanilla, I slowly suck her feeling the effects of her rich, dark chocolate body melting in my mouth while imagining that I was sucking her nipple. She was such a bitch when she wanted to be, but I was in love with her anyway. Yeah, sure, she's pretty, but there are other women who are just as pretty. Yeah, sure, she has a great body, but there are other women who have similar bodies and a much better personality than her, no doubt. Yet, I love her. I do. I really do. I can't help myself. She's all I think about. I want her. I need her. I must have her. Just once, it'd be nice if she remembered me on Valentine's Day with a card. It doesn't have to be a love card, just a friendship card. I imagined her Valentine's Day inscription, "Happy Valentine's Day Joe, Love Princess." She didn't even have to mean that she loved me as a boyfriend, but as a friend, you know. Okay, if she wrote Regards, instead of love, I'd be happy. It'd make my day if she bought me a gift, red boxer shorts with white hearts and with her personal inscription written on the back, "Property of Princess" or a keychain with an inscription, "To Joe, Love Princess." That would mean so much to me. Okay, maybe not red boxer shorts, but I'd forever treasure any gift received from her knowing that she had to go to the store and pick it out with me in mind. She never used to be like this. She used to be kind, caring, and thoughtful. Now, she's a self-centered bitch. Still, even though I know this about her and what she's really like, I still can't remove her from my mind. My days and nights are consumed by my thoughts of her. She has no friends really, except for her friend, Carol, who is equally as bitchy. Women hate her. She has lots of guy friends, though. As she does with most guys who lie prone at her feet, she has me wrapped around her long, shapely legs, while looking up at her unreachable and unattainable panty clad nirvana. I'd do anything for the promise of having her, if only for one night. I'd do anything to bend her over the bathroom sink while sliding my cock in and out of her and gently banging her head against the mirror. I imagined holding onto her tits while humping her like that. Deeper and deeper and faster and faster, I'd hump her until she screamed my name. "Joe, don't stop. Joe, I'm cumming! Joe, I love you." "Look in the mirror, Princess. Look how pretty you are while you are getting fucked from behind like a dog. Go ahead and bark. Bark like the little dog that you are." "Ruff, ruff. Ruff, ruff. Ruff, ruff." I imagined her face blushing with passion. I imagined her lush, long blonde hair filled with the static electricity that visually sparked our passion ala the Bride of Frankenstein. Okay, maybe that's a bad analogy, but visually you know what I mean. I imagined her loving it and loving me in the way she's never loved anyone before. I thought good thoughts and took a big breath before walking in her room. I wondered what drama I'd have to listen to now, just to be in the company of my Princess. This is how it must have been in court, when the Knights catered to their Queen. She was always so self-centered and so self-absorbed that I don't think she'd notice if I walked in her room naked. Just once, I'd love to parade around her naked to see if she'd notice my bouncing and bobbing erection. I don't think she'd notice if I stood beside her and jerked off. "You'd better not get cum on me, Joe," I imagined she'd say while talking to her bitchy friend, Carol, on her cell phone. "Joe's naked again, Carol, and jerking off this time, he's such a pervert. No, Carol, I'm not going to touch his thing. Eww! No, I'm not going to help jerk him off. Eww! He's capable of doing that on his own. He doesn't need my help, the little pervert. Joe get away from me with your thing." "Sorry, Princess, I'm surprised you even noticed that I was standing beside you naked and jerking off." I imagine myself looking down at my cock before looking up at her. "Do you like my cock? C'mon, look at it. Go ahead, touch it. Get on your knees, put it in your mouth, and swirl your tongue around it while stroking me." "Eww! Get that thing away from me. Get away from me, Joe. Go away." I imagine chasing her around her room while holding my prick and trying to get her to touch it. I'd love to show her my prick. I'd do anything for her to give me a hand job and French kiss me while I fondled her tits and fingered her nipples. I'd do anything to make love to her. Only, what I dream about and all that I imagined, I'd never do. I imagined her engulfed with lustful desire for me. I couldn't help but imagine her falling to her knees once seeing my cock before taking it in her mouth. I sexually fantasize about her all the time. It's the same fantasy every time, kissing, hand jobs, and blowjobs with lots of fucking and then more blowjobs. I pushed open the door that was ajar to her room. Quiet on the set! Lights! Camera! Action! In her dramatic moment, she was standing by the mirror with her hands on the bureau and her head hanging down, as if she had just heard the news that her precious little dog, Paris, a dyed pink, miniature toy poodle had died. She could have been an actress vying to win an Academy Award. She had all the drama and dramatic movements of a Diva playing her role for her fans. Finally, after I drank her exquisite, external beauty up with a long, lustful stare that began with her beautiful face, encompassed her C-cup, full breasts, curved inward to imagine my hand around her slim, toned waistline and before reaching down and outward to her round, firm ass, and down further to her long, shapely legs, I summoned the courage to delve into her internal ugliness with enough feigned sincerity to ask. "What's the matter? What happened? Tell Joe." She had that sad puppy dog face and her lip started quivering. Whenever she made that face, I just wanted to hold her, caress her, and kiss her. In the shallow way she treated me and all the times she ignored me, everything was forgiven. It wouldn't matter if she kicked me in the balls, so long as she made that sad face while doing it. I just wanted to tell her everything would be okay and I'll take care of her. Don't worry, Princess; I'll take care of everything. Then, she burst into tears, crocodile tears. For such a beautiful girl, she cried ugly, Tammy Faye Bakker kind of ugly with spasms and black eye makeup running down her cheeks. Boo the fuck hoo; it was always the same melodrama. It was such a nightmare trying to be her friend when she didn't even know I was there most of the time. After a while it's tiring always asking about her life when she never asks about mine. "Who are you?" "I'm Joe. You've known me all your life." "And what did you say your name is again?" "Joe." Okay, I'm exaggerating, but not by much. Yeah, it's that bad being her friend while hoping to be her boyfriend. I walked to her and put my arms around her. Actually, I loved it when she cried. Her crying gave me a valid excuse to hold her and comfort her while I imagined myself touching, feeling, and caressing her exquisite body everywhere. She felt so good in my arms. She smelled fresh and sweet. We fit perfectly and I could feel my cock pressed against her soft belly before it slipped down in my pants and slowly swelled at the sensation of her body so close to mine. While trying my best not to make them appear sexual, I kissed her forehead, cheek, and neck, while taking care not to overdo the kisses. It was magical imagining that I was her boyfriend and showering her with kisses while holding her. I so wanted to kiss her lips, but I was afraid. I didn't want to ruin our friendship with the one-sided love that I had for her. Careful not to make her feel uncomfortable, pressured or overwhelmed, in deference to how I felt, I was always more concerned with not hurting her feelings. She squeezed harder and I returned her squeeze. I so wanted to hump her while holding her. I so wanted to reach both my hands down and cup her sweet, little ass and hump her. It took all the self-control I possessed not to reach my hand down the front of her, lift up her short skirt, stick my hand down her panty, and feel her smooth, shaved, perfect pussy while fingering her clit and kissing her. I wondered if she'd notice. I wondered if she'd know it was me. "Joe, why is your hand down my panty? Why are you fingering my clit?" "Sorry, Princess, it was an accident. My hand slipped," I imagined saying to her. I know she has a shaved pussy because she told me. I asked if I could see it pretending that I had never seen a shaved pussy before, but she just gave me her you've got to be kidding me, in your dreams, bitchy sort of look. Hey, at least she looked at me. At least she acknowledged me. Only, I saw flashes of it anyway one day when she came in her bedroom from the bathroom after just having taken a shower. She was only wearing a towel while talking on her cell phone to Rod, her boyfriend. As if I wasn't even there, as if I was invisible, she was lying on the bed with her knees up. She didn't even know she was flashing me her pussy. Or did she? How could she not know? Who knows? Who cares? At least I got to see her shaved pussy. She's such a cock teaser. While the towel rode higher up her body with her every unconscious movement, she was lost in her sexual conversation with her boyfriend. I was almost waiting for her to pull out a vibrator and start masturbating while talking on the phone. I pretended to comb my hair in the mirror, while staring at the reflection of her shapely thighs, the side of her firm hips, and the constant and continually flashes of her pussy. Every now and then, she'd make a feeble attempt to cover her nakedness, but she gave me a peek-a-boo pussy show. "Oh, Joe, I didn't know you were here. How long have you been here?" "Since yesterday," I imagined saying to my perceived Esmeralda and walking with a limp ala Quasimodo in Victor Hugo's Hunchback of Notre Dame. "You didn't see me, uhm, masturbate, did you?" Her grip was so tight around my neck that she made me imagine we were naked in bed and she was having an orgasm while my cock was buried deep inside her. I wanted to push her back on the bed, rip her clothes away, and make sweet love to her. I imagined hearing her coo with ecstasy, as my cock rubbed against her clit, while my fingers pulled and twisted her nipples, and my tongue satisfied her need to French kiss me. If only I was the one, if only I was her one and only, and if only it was me she was so upset about. If only I was the one who could quiet her with wet French kisses, slow, delicate touches, and hot sex right now. "Why are you so sad, Princess? Why are you crying? C'mon, tell Joe." "Oh, Joe," she said. Her lips were so close to my ear that her sweet breath tickled me. I loved it when she said my name in that way. It reminded me of the old movie dialogue from the forties whenever she said my name like that, "Oh, Joe." I wanted to turn my head and find her lips with mine and devour her tongue. Only, she'd never kiss me. I'd do nothing more than to piss her off and make an ass of myself. Moreover, she'd ban me from her house, from her room, and from seeing her. Then, I'd really be devastated with the loss of her as my friend. Princess & Her Friend, Average Joe I imagined her self-righteous indignation with me trying to kiss her. "What the Hell do you think you're doing Joe? I'm not attracted to you in that way," I imagine her saying while wiping my kiss from her lips with the back of her hand. "Eww! Gross! How dare you try and kiss me. Don't you ever do that again." I'd be so embarrassed to have my romantic advances rebuffed by her. Sometimes in the way she treats me, I'd like to slap her, force myself upon her, and have my way with her. That's how crazy with frustrated desire she makes me. Either she'd put me in jail for rape or she'd fall in love with me. With my luck it would be the former rather than the latter. At least, in the way that things are now, I get to spend time with her every day. I get to see her every day. I get to take the image of her away with me and fantasize about her while alone in the privacy of my bedroom or bathroom later. I don't want to live my life without her in it, even if this pathetic relationship is all that I can expect to receive from her. Her perfume made me dizzy. The softness of her cheek against mine and the fragrance of her beautiful, soft, blonde hair made my knees weak. I put my arms around her back and my fingers explored the back of her bra. I fingered the hook that gave them shape, form, and held her magnificent breasts at attention while pretending it was her nipple. My hands felt every part of her beautiful back, before imagining that we were lovers and we were about to get naked and make love on this most romantic day of days, Valentine's Day. I wanted to unhook her bra and free her breasts for my hungry mouth. She hugged my neck and I pulled her closer. We were almost the same height and I relaxed my knees a bit, squatting down a little before squatting up and lifting the front of her ever so short skirt with my body, as I straightened my knees. With her skirt lifted high enough to expose her panties, I could feel my cock stiffening while it gently nestled itself between her legs. This is my preferred position. Before I came over, I rubbed a balloon all over the front of my pants. I was a walking static cling man. Desperate in my desire for her and pathetic in my sexual need of her, I'd do anything for a cheap feel. I purposely didn't wear underwear today and only thing between her and my cock were the thin static filled material of my sweatpants and, once I moved her skirt up and out of the way, her thin cotton panty. I often wondered if she knew what I was doing and allowed me to continue to do it out of friendship. Maybe, she's not so bitchy after all. Maybe, she has a soft spot in her heart for me. Maybe, she's just as hot for me, as I am for her. Maybe, she's just horny. Probably, she pities me in my mad devotion of her and doesn't mind me rubbing my cock against her body. If only I had the courage to reach down, cup her ass, and pull her even closer, I would, but I'm afraid she'd throw me out and ban me from her house forever. She was still crying, sobbing actually. Maybe she missed a big sale at the mall. Maybe the store didn't carry her size or her preferred color in an outfit she loved. Maybe the shoes or pocketbook she wanted to buy was no longer available. Maybe her credit card was denied. Maybe, she should have a fucking problem. There are hungry people in the world, homeless people, and people with real problems. There's a frustrated guy, me, who is madly in love with her, and she's upset and crying over fucking nothing. Happy fucking Valentine's Day, you bitch. "Oh, Joe," she said again and I swooned to the sound of her voice. Instantly I forgot my anger and put aside my sexual frustration for the imagined promise that this was my chance to be with her. I could never be mad with her. Her voice crumbled my resistance. I was as quivering as Jell-o and her wish was my command. I imagined her saying my name while standing at the altar in church just before taking her vow of matrimony. "Oh, Joe, I do." I imagined our Honeymoon. "Oh, Joe, may I blow you again?" I imagined her holding our new born baby in the hospital room. "Oh, Joe, he looks just like you." I imagined her saying my name at our twenty-five anniversary. "Oh, Joe, you've given me a wonderful life filled with romance and happiness." Only, none of that was real and none of that would ever happen. "Oh, Joe," she said again, as if saying my name gave her comfort. Do me a favor and move some furniture, I imagined her more realistically saying. "It's okay, Princess. Don't cry. Tell Joe what happened." She was as much of a drama queen as she was a damn cock teaser. She knew, no doubt, that she was driving me mad with lustful desire for her. Certainly, she could feel my cock hardening against her thigh. How could she not? She knew, no doubt, that she'd keep me around and interested by dangling her carrot of promised sexuality in front of me. Yet, that was okay, so long as she turned my cock from dangling flaccid to stiffly hard. By the pressure of my throbbing cock against her body, how could she not know that I wanted to make love to her and/or that I wanted her to blow me? "Happy Valentine's Day, Joe," I imagined her saying. "As my special Valentine's gift to you, I'm going to suck your cock." I imagined her leading me to her bed. "Make yourself comfortable while I remove your pants." I imagined her pulling off my pants. "Oh, you're such a naughty boy. You aren't wearing any underwear," I imagined her saying while taking my cock in her hand and stroking it. "Only, as a special favor to me, I'd love it if you'd cum in my mouth and save some cum to give me a cum bath later, when I blow you again," I imagined her saying. "Okay," I blurted out without even realizing that I was answering my imagined conversation with her. "I mean, it's okay, Princess," I said to cover up my momentary lapse in reality. I took the liberty of allowing my cock to throb against her. It was a brazen game that I played with her and it felt so good. Yeah, I know it's a bit pathetically perverted, but I purposely allowed my cock to throb against her thigh while imagining that it was throbbing inside of her pussy. I was waiting for her to notice. I was waiting for her to say something, anything. I was waiting for her reaction, but she ignored my throbbing cock in the same way she ignored me. How could she not feel my prick practically bouncing off her body? It felt good to rub my erection against her while imagining that I was making love to her. She must know that I had an erection and that she is the one who gave it to me. I made it throb again and again. It felt good to rub my stiffening cock against her body while holding her so tight. Holding her is what I dream of doing every night. There's not an evening or a morning that goes by that I don't masturbate over the thoughts of sexually touching her and she touching me. I'd do anything to French kiss her. I'd do anything to see her naked and to touch her where every boyfriend she's had has touched her, and she's had lots of boyfriends. Whenever I'm with her and whenever I'm holding her in the way that I'm holding her now, I can't help but imagine her sucking my cock before making love. "Shh, shh, shh, it's okay, Princess, it's okay. Joe is here with you now," I said repositioning my hold of her to allow my cock to come in full contact of her soft body. "Tell me what happened, Princess." Even though I was wearing pants and she was wearing panties, it felt like Heaven rubbing the erect head of my cock against her. Her name was Susan, but I called her Princess ever since she won the local beauty contest. We grew up together. We played together since we were in diapers. Only, she got hot and I didn't. I'm not ugly by any means, but I'm nothing like the guys she dates. She likes the jocks and I'm not even smart enough to be a geek. I'm just plain, old, average Joe. Yeah, sure, I was on the wrestling team and I played hockey, but not enough to be good at either sport. Plus, genetically, I'm a dwarf compared to these big bruiser types of guys she dates. I always wondered if their cocks were proportional to their height. Maybe, that's her attraction. Maybe she likes big cocks. I don't have a little cock, by any means. I have an average cock. I'm just average in every way, average Joe, that's me. "Rod, he," she said sobbing on my shoulder. "He, he dumped me," she said breaking down. "I was expecting him to give me a Valentine's Day surprise. I was expecting him to give me flowers and candy before taking me out to eat somewhere special, somewhere romantic." Duh? Hello? What about the candy and flowers that I gave you? Are they as invisible to you as I apparently am? I thought it, but didn't say it. I was still pissed she didn't read my card, but I chose not to say anything about that either. Maybe, she'll read it later. Maybe, she'll call me on the phone to tell me that she loves me, too, and ask me to come over for my special Valentine's Day blowjob. "Joe, I read your card," I imagined her saying over the phone. "Thank you. Can you come over? I have a special surprise for you." Nonetheless, I so loved it when she cried on my shoulder. If I concentrated, if I focused my thoughts, I could actually feel her erect nipples against my chest. The sensation of her nipples touching my nipples made me wish I had little hands with little fingers attached to my nipples so that I could secretly feel her tits and nipples. I imagined that the feeling of my tiny nipple hands and fingers would arouse her to the point of actually wanting to have sex with me. The thought of that made me wonder that, if I took up Yoga and mastered the art of controlling and being in tune with every part of my body, if I could better feel her nipples with any part of my being. Gees, I'm so pathetic. It took all the control I had not to touch her everywhere while holding her. I'd do anything to feel her up while kissing her. I imagined my hand cupping her breast and my other hand cupping her ass while kissing her. There is nothing like feeling a tit and an ass while kissing. Holding her and feeling her in my arms, made me swoon with romantic desire. As my cock grew harder and the throbbing of it grew faster and more forceful, I so wanted to feel her firm breast and to run my hand along her round ass, but I didn't want to ruin whatever it was we had. What was it we had? Oh, yeah, we were friends, best friends, and she confided all her secrets in me. Hey, that's better than nothing, I guess, and better worshiping her from the inner sanctum of her bedroom than worshiping her from afar. Still, I wondered what her pussy felt like with my fingers exploring her clit while finger fucking her. Even though I saw flashes of it before, I wondered what her pussy looked like up close before my cock was buried deep inside of her. I wondered what her pussy tasted like when my face was poised between her legs, just before my tongue took my first lick. I knew everything about her. She knew little about me, but that's okay. That's what made it work between us. In a way we were both using one another, only she was getting more in the deal. Yet, that's okay too; really it is. I don't mind, so long as I can be with her, even if just as a friend. Besides, I knew how to play her and she allowed me to play, too. She knew I had an erection, no doubt. She allowed me to accidentally on purpose lift her short skirt with my static cling sweatpants while allowing my erection to pulsate against her exposed panty. I loved her panties. She had wonderful panties. It was fun to pretend that I was her boyfriend. Pathetic, I know, but it was better than nothing. I was content to play the fool to the Princess, so long as she allowed me access to her bedroom to see and talk to her daily. As far as I was concerned, any time spent with her was time well spent. No matter what we did or didn't do, I just need to be near her. "It's over," she said. "He's such a jerk. He yelled at me in front of his friends. Then, he pretended that he was sorry and that he was going to apologize, but when he took me in his arms and kissed me..." She started crying again. I haven't seen her as upset since Paris Hilton went to jail and Britney Spears was chastised for not wearing panties. I tried soothing her by rubbing her back while holding her tight, so tight that I imagined we were standing naked and my cock was buried deep in her pussy. Gently I massaged her back while slowly, methodically lowering my hand down to the top of her sweet ass. I allowed my fingers to rest on the curve of her backside imagining what it felt like to bend her over and plunge my cock deep inside her pussy, while my hand reached forward and felt the weight of her breasts and my fingers fingered her nipples. Christ, she made me so freaking horny that all I could think about was fucking her and her sucking me. "Tell me what he did to you. Tell me," I said feeling the anger heat my collar while I slowly, methodically, and gently lowered my fingers centimeter by centimeter along her sweet ass. Lower and still lower my fingers explored her body where I had never had the courage to touch her before. My hand was practically on her ass. I had the urge to grab a handful of her ass while yelling, "Happy Valentine's Day," before turning her head to me and forcing my tongue in her mouth. "I've never been so embarrassed," she said. "He humiliated me," she said. "Embarrassed? Humiliated? Why? What did that bastard do?" I figured he said something she wore didn't match, was out of fashion or maybe she had worn the same outfit once before and he remembered it and made a public announcement to his friends about it. "He, uhm," she said lifting her head from my shoulder to flash me her beautiful, blue, tear filled eyes. In an excited rush, I thought she was going to kiss me and nearly closed my eyes and puckered my lips. I had the overwhelming urge to kiss her, but I didn't. Instead I whispered my concern. "What Princess?" "He lifted my skirt up in back while kissing me and exposed my panties to his friends." My cock stiffened and throbbed with the image of Rod lifting her skirt in front of his friends. I pulled my hands higher up her back. I didn't want to be accused of fondling her in her time of need. Yet, I could tell that she was excited and embarrassed at the same time. She was easy to read. Only, I didn't know if she was excited by the thoughts of Rod lifting her skirt and exposing her panties to his friends or excited by telling me he did or excited that I was trying to get a cheap feel of her ass or excited by any and all of the combination of the three. "Oh, my God, he's such a pig," I said feeling my face redden with the continuation of the excited imagined vision of her panty clad ass being exposed to his horny friends. "I was so lost in his kiss that I didn't know my skirt was up in back until he stuck his hand all the way down my panty and fingered my pussy from behind." She's got to be kidding. How could she not know? Is she that self-absorbed? Oh, if only I could be so self-centered, perhaps then, she'd have respect for me and, perhaps then, she'd want me. Only, I'd have to be a gay fashion designer or male model to be as egotistical as she is. "Oh, Princess, I'm so sorry," I said. My cock throbbed against her while I imagined Rod sticking his big hand down her panty and fingering her pussy in front of his friends. "Then, he tried pulling my panty down and while still holding my skirt up to the middle of my back and he did pull my panty down in back exposing my ass to his friends." She looked at me with tears in her eyes. "His friends saw my naked ass," she said stomping her foot in the way she stomped her foot so many times before, when complaining about the lack of immediate service in a restaurant or when complaining to a store manager about something she wants now and that must be ordered. She didn't know her skirt was up in back? C'mon, are you kidding me? Do you think I was born yesterday? I wondered if I could get away with the same thing. I wanted to ask her to demonstrate what he did so that I could see her ass. Nah, with my luck, she'd be pissed at me for being insensitive, when she's the insensitive bitch. With my luck, she'd have nothing to do with me after I got a cheap look and feel of her panty clad ass before pulling down her panties, as a recreation of what Rod did. "He's such an asshole," I said feeling my cock harden like quick set concrete. "That's not to worse of it," she said sobbing. Be still my heart. I imagined Rod forcing her to do something really nasty. I was jealous, angry, and excited all at the same time. I imagined Rod finally tiring of her being the bitch that she is. I imagined him forcing her to her knees and making her blow him, while his friends watched. I imagined him making her blow his friends, too, as part of his final good-bye to her. I imagined them cumming in her sweet mouth before pulling their cocks out of her mouth and giving her a cum bath. I imagined them stripping her naked and then gangbanging her. "Did they force you to—" "No, no, nothing like that, but his friends took pictures of my ass with their cell phones." Lucky bastards, I thought, only— "Bastards! They are all such assholes. Dirty bastards," I said. "Joe, what if they post my photos on the Internet?" Gees, I didn't think of that. What a great idea? Now, I couldn't wait to go home and look for her ass posted on various sites on the Internet. I'll be jerking off for days if I find her photos. I'd recognize her ass anywhere. She has a small tattoo of a Gucci handbag on her right hip and Fendi shoes on her left hip. She looked up at me again and I couldn't tell by her look if she was sexually excited that her ass may be posted on the Internet or if she was embarrassed by the thought of it. "Don't fret; I don't think they'd do that, Princess." Immediately, I had an erection thinking about her pretty panty clad, sweet, round ass being exposed to Rod's perverted friends and her naked ass posted for thousands more on the Internet. It took all the self-control that I possessed not to lift her skirt. I wanted to see her naked ass, too. I wanted to touch her ass, feel her ass, caress her ass, squeeze her ass, cup her ass, kiss her ass, and lick her ass, as I slowly lowered her panties. When I first hugged her, I angled her in front of her shoe mirror that she kept on the floor by her bureau and it gave me the perfect reflection up her short skirt and of her panties. I know it's pathetically perverted, but, hey, I'm a horny guy. What do you expect from me? This is part of the payback earned for having to listen to her gripe and for her ignoring me day after day, week after week, month after month, and year after year. Certainly, I could understand why Rod was equally as frustrated and exasperated with her as I was. Yet, what I imagined doing, pulling up her short skirt and pulling down her panties, is what he did. As a big, macho quarterback, he has the confidence to assert himself in that way. Only, perverted excitement aside, it was wrong for him to treat her like that. As much as I imagined doing all those things to her, I'd never disrespect her like that. Besides, she must know that I'm stealing peeks of her panty with the aid of her shoe mirror. It's a game we play. How could she no know? She's not an idiot, she's just a vain, self-absorbed bitch, but I love her. I do. I really love her. Yeah, sure, I've seen her panties lots of times before. She's so comfortable around me that she sits with her legs up and apart. She's given me so many up skirt shots of her panties that I wonder if she purposely does it. If nothing else, she's given me endless erections and endless jerk off material. She's such a tease. Perhaps, her flashing me her panties is my personal reward for all the lunacy that I must put up with to be her friend. Princess & Her Friend, Average Joe I love her panties. She has the best panty collection. I've gone through her panty drawer lots of times while she's been preoccupied on the phone in the other room or in the bathroom getting ready. Every one of her panties is a sexual palette of color and style. It's painfully obvious that she doesn't think of me as a man. She thinks of me as one of her girlfriends. She's always changing her clothes in front of me. She doesn't get naked, but she's come in the room wearing just a towel after showering. I got up the nerve once to tickle her, while she was wearing her towel. She almost dropped her towel, she was laughing so hard and I nearly saw her tits. I so wanted to rip the towel from her naked body and mount her while kissing her. "I felt so violated when he stuck his hand down my panty. I mean, he's done that plenty of times before when we were alone and making out, whenever we were romantically in the mood, while he's masturbating me or I'm blowing him. Only, this time was different. This felt more like being forced. This felt more like rape." Be still my heart. I still couldn't remove the image of Rod lifting her short skirt, pulling down her panty, and exposing her ass to everyone while fingering her perfect, shaved, pussy. I couldn't remove the image of him masturbating her and her blowing him. "I'll kill him," I said. There was no way I could even hurt him. I mean, I could bleed on him while he pounded my face to hamburger with his big hand. He was 6'4" and 220 pounds and I was 5'8" and 150 pounds. "Well, I'm done with him," she said pulling away from me. "I threw his ring in his face." She walked to her bureau, grabbed a tissue, and rubbed away her ruined eye makeup. She was the only woman I knew who looked good with or without makeup. I've seen some women that makeup absolutely transforms them, but not her, not my Princess. She has natural beauty. She has beautiful skin. She's beautiful. She doesn't need to wear makeup, that is, except for lipstick, red lipstick, lipstick on the dipstick. I sat on her bed hoping she'd give me a show and she did. She turned to look at me and I pretended to look down and away, but I could still see her reflection in the mirror. In one quick movement, she removed her top. Then, she unzipped her skirt and allowed it to fall to her ankles. I don't know how many times I've seen her in her bra and bikini panties or thong. I know every freckle of her hard body. I imagined grabbing her around the waist and pulling her on the bed, while she was still in her bra and panty. I imagined wrestling with her and accidentally on purpose being fresh with my hands, feeling her tits through her bra and her pussy and ass through her panty. Only, I was afraid of alienating her in the way that Rod had. With her back still to me, she opened her bureau drawer, pulled out her pink velour sweat suit and quickly dressed. Show's over and now I had another erection. Only, she didn't know. How could she not know? As if it was a pole that supported the thick canvass of the tent, it was practically sticking out straight. She never noticed me in that way. It wouldn't surprise me if she thought I was gay. I'm not. I'm just in love with her. I don't want anyone else but her and I don't want anyone else to have her. "I need to get out," she said. "I need to go shopping. Wanna come?" Wanna cum? My Princess just asked me if I wanna cum. You have no idea, I thought. I imagined her soft hand stroking my cock as I kissed her while probing her sweet mouth with my tongue. I imagined her falling between my legs and taking my cock in her mouth and sucking me, as I moved her lush blonde hair out of the way to reach down and cup her perfect tits, first one and then the other, while my fingers frolicked with and pulled and twisted her nipples. The sight of her on her knees with my cock in her mouth made me even harder. I imagined taking her head in my hands while watching her blow me and slowly and gently moving my hips back and forth and in and out while fucking her pretty, little mouth. I imagined her looking up at me with her big, blue eyes. "Cum in my mouth, Joe. I want to experience all of you. I need to swallow some protein." Then, removing my prick from her mouth, I imagined her putting her hand to my chest and pushing me back on the bed and mounting me while kissing and kissing me. Sensual and surreal, it all seemed so real that I could almost feel her little hand reach down and direct my prick to her pussy. I imagined the warm gush when my cock finally entered her sweet, shaved pussy for the first time feeling like nothing I ever experienced before. She was fucking me. She was really fucking me. I imagine her pretty cheeks flushed with sexual excitement, as she jumped up and down and up and down on my cock, as I slapped her round ass. I watched her tits bouncing up and down and back and forth. I reached up and fingered her nipples before raising my body to take one in my mouth, first one and then the other. She was humping me harder now and I returned the favor by holding her slim waist just at the top of her hips. I felt my cock going deeper and deeper until I was ready to explode all that I had in her pussy. I imagined rolling her over. Now, I was really pounding her. Now, I was really making love to my, Princess. Now, I was really fucking her. It'd only be a matter of minutes before I shot my warm, slimy load in her sweet—" "Joe, you coming?" "Yes," I said getting up from the corner of her bed. She was already at the door with her pocketbook and car keys in hand. I picked up her top and skirt, folded them, and placed them on the bed before leaving her room. Before leaving her house, I grabbed two more chocolate truffles for the road. I needed them after having imagined sex with her. We drove to the mall. She dropped me off in front while she headed around back. She always parked in back, where the employees parked, so that her car, a red BMW 335i convertible wouldn't get scratched from the constant in and out flow of cars parking and leaving. I needed to hit the electronics store to buy batteries for my camera. "I'll be in Victoria's Secret," she said. "Okay," I said waving bye to her, while watching her drive around the back of the mall. I got an erection just thinking about accompanying her to Victoria Secrets. I couldn't wait. She was going to my favorite store and I needed to rush my purchase to help her pick out her sexy lingerie. She always asked my opinion while holding up a bra or panty to her body. I enjoyed leering at her while imagining her wearing whatever she was holding up to her body. "I need to buy something special for you, Joe," I imagined her saying. "I want to look sexy for you when I give you my special Valentine's Day surprise, a day long blowjob." She must know that she drives me wild with sexual excitement. It's her game she plays with me, much like the game I play with her when rubbing my cock against her. I loved touching the panties in the store knowing the ones that she'd buy and knowing that she'd have them on her perfect body after I already had my hands on them. I know, I know, I'm pathetic. Only, she makes me so horny. I bought my batteries and headed off in the direction of Victoria Secrets. I wandered the store looking for her. Figuring she was already in the dressing room, I waited a few minutes before asking the girl at the dressing room if she had seen her. "No," she said. "We've been slow and there's no one in the dressing room." Now, I was worried. Maybe she was buying more shoes. I loved watching her buy shoes. Normally, she wears a short skirt and flashes her panty or thong to the shoe salesman. I enjoy watching the looks on their faces when rewarded with a quick glimpse between her legs of her sexy panties or thong. Her flashing appears accidental, but I've always wondered if they were. Whether it's accidental or on purpose, she just loves the attention received from men, I think. Quickly I raced around the mall hitting three shoe stores and two pocketbook stores searching for her. Then, I realized she was wearing her pink jumpsuit. She wouldn't buy shoes while wearing that. Now, I panicked. I figured that maybe something happened to her and she never made it in the mall. I ran out the back door and saw her car parked in her usual spot. Only, there was a van parked beside it, Rod's van. My heart sunk. The van was rocking and I knew they were inside making out and making love, no doubt. I imagined that she was giving him the special Valentine's blowjob that she should be giving me. I was red with rage figuring that they were having hot makeup sex. I was jealous. I was hurt. How could she do this to me again and on Valentine's Day? She didn't even open and read my card. I wish I had never given it to her. Now, I wished I had thrown my card in the trash. I'd be so embarrassed, if she reads it now. I had naively thought I might have a chance with her this time, if only for some hot rebound sex. I was hurt that she was with him again after how he treated her. This is it. I'm done with her. I can't do this anymore. It's just too painfully frustrating to have her treat me in this way. I was about to go back inside the mall and I was about to take the bus home, until I heard her scream. Not caring about my personal safety, I only cared about Susan, my Princess. I ran to the van and pulled at the rear door and it opened. There were two of Rod's friends holding her down. She was naked. They were all naked. Rod still had his cock in her mouth while one man was feeling her tits and the other was fingering her pussy. Feebly struggling, Susan had a cock in each hand. One of them grabbed his clothes and quickly ran off nearly knocking me down to make good his escape. The other man tried to kick me, but I grabbed him by his foot and pulled him out of the van and pushed him to the ground. I was on the wrestling team all through high school and college. My wrestling hold and adrenaline came in handy, but they were all so much bigger than me. The two men returned, forced me in the van, and closed the door. "Strip him," said Rod pulling his cock from her mouth. Hands were pulling down my sweatpants. They pulled my sweatpants down and off. "Look the midget's not wearing any underwear. What a pervert." "Stop! No! Let go of me! Get off me!" "Look, he's got a little erection," said Rod and they all laughed. "Let me go," I said struggling against them, but they were too strong for me. They were all big men, much bigger than me. I recognized the other two. They were on the football team with Rod. "Is this who you want, Susan, this little bit of a man? He's all you talk about. I'm sick of hearing his name, Joe said this and Joe said that. Joe did this and Joe did that. You must be in love with him, in the way you constantly talk about him. Look at him. He's not even a man. He's half a man." I couldn't believe it. She's always talking about me. She's always quoting me. It was then that I wondered if she was in love with me. "Stop it, Rod, we're just friends. We've grown up together. Let him go. You can do whatever you want with me. Only, don't hurt him." "Look at his cock," said Rod. "Look at it, I said," he said slapping her across her face and grabbing a handful of her blonde hair and pulling her head up to see. It made me so angry that he struck her and I struggled desperately against their hold, but it was to no avail. Susan lifted her head to stare at my cock. My emotions ran wild. Even though I was concerned for Susan's safety, even though I was struggling against them to help her, even though I was embarrassed that I was naked and being manhandled, I was aroused that my cock was exposed to her and that she was staring at it. An understatement, it was a bittersweet moment and my emotions were excitedly mixed. "I'll let him go if you touch his cock," said Rod laughing with his friends. I suddenly stopped struggling. Excitement replaced fear. Always wondering what her hand would feel like wrapped around my cock, excited by the thought of her touching me and the sight of her naked in front of me and three other men, I wondered if Susan would touch me. I didn't have to wonder long. Immediately she sat up from her prone position and wrapped her hand around my cock. She ran her thumb across the head of it before pulling her hand away. "Stroke him" said Rod. "I want to see how small he gets," he said laughing with his friends. She was sitting up now, straddling me with her long legs. I could feel her feet against my thighs. She made eye contact, flashing me her baby blues before looking down at my cock and taking it in her hand again. I couldn't believe it when she started slowly stroking me, moving her hand back and forth. Even though I wanted to pull away, even though I wanted to protest and protect her, I couldn't. Even though I was embarrassed and helpless, I was fully aroused. Home alone in my room at night and waking up with an erection each morning while thinking of my Princess; this is what I always imagined. This is what I always wanted. Five years of fantasizing about her naked while jerking off over her, her hand felt too good on my cock to protest. This was my sexual fantasy come true. "Jerk him off, Susan, and I'll let him go. Make him cum and I won't hurt him." "Rod, please, no," she said. "Do it," he said. "Okay," she said without further protesting. I stared at her tits watching them bouncing up and down and back and forth with the movement of her hand and arm, as she stroked my cock faster and faster. Occasionally, she'd look up at me. I read her look as being sexually excited that she was masturbating me. Continually, she looked from my cock before looking back up to me. It was everything I ever imagined getting a hand job from my beloved Princess. Now, I wondered if she had fantasized about this, too. "Now, get on your knees and suck him off, you bitch." "No, please. Stop," I said in a feeble protest. Only, I couldn't stop staring at her naked body, her breasts were bigger than I had imagined and her shapely thighs, the gates that guarded her modesty, were now open and exposed to me for the first time. Her shaved pussy was perfection and clearly I had a front row seat to her pink passion fruit. "Rod, no," said Susan with tear filled eyes. "I'm not going to blow Joe. I can't. It's wrong. This has gone far—" "Suck his cock, bitch," he said pulling a handful of her hair so hard that when she opened her mouth to scream in pain, he forcefully pushed her down and impaled her mouth with my erect cock. When she fell forward he walloped her ass with his big hand and that was when she started blowing me. I couldn't believe it when I felt her lips, the soft wetness of her mouth, and her tongue surround my cock. I could feel my eyes rolling back in my head. Five years of fantasying about receiving a blowjob from her, from my Princess, this was the best blowjob I had ever received from anyone. Instantly, I felt precum and I was ready to prematurely explode in her mouth. "Okay, that's enough," said Rod pulling her up by her hair and throwing her back on the air mattress. "Fuck her," he said turning to me. "This is your chance. This is what you always wanted. Go ahead and fuck her," he said punching me in the shoulder. His big, heavy hand nearly knocked my breath away. I couldn't imagine what it'd feel like if he really hit me hard in the face or in the stomach. He'd kill me. "Rod, why are you doing this? I thought we had something," she said. "Maybe, once you experience what it feels like to have a half man, you'll appreciate a real man," he said. "Maybe after you fuck the shrimp, you'll stop talking about him." "If you stop this now, Rod, I promise I'll never mention Joe's name, again." "It's too late for that. You just mentioned his name, again." It was obvious that he was jealous of me. Handsome Rod, the great star quarterback of the football team, the guy who could have any woman, was jealous of me. I had no idea. "No, please, stop. This is enough," I said struggling against them again. Only his two big friends held me back. "Don't hurt him," screamed Susan when Rod raised his hand to hit me. "Pick him up and put him down on top of her," said Rod. They hoisted me up so much like a side of beef. Hands grabbed my ankles and were on my back and on my neck pushing me down and holding me there. "Rod, please, no. Stop! This is crazy," cried Susan. "Stick his cock in there, Susan. Take it in your hand and put it in your pussy or I'll hurt him. I swear I'll really hurt him bad. I'll fuck him up. I want to see some humping and I want to see it now," he said making a sick face. "I'm sure that this probably isn't the first time you two fucked." "I never touched her," I said. "Shut up! Shut the fuck up, squirt, or so help me God, I'll make you bleed," said Rod raising his hand in readiness to hit me, but he didn't. "Fuck him, Susan. Fuck him!" "Okay, okay," she said. "I'll do it. I'll fuck him." I felt Susan's hand reach down and take my cock. I felt faint with delirious excitement when I felt the head of my cock slide in her shaved pussy. She was already wet and I felt her warm gush of juices welcoming my way inside. "Hump her, Joe. Fuck her!" Rod pushed down on my ass hard with his big, meaty hand. "Now, kiss him, Susan," said Rod. "French kiss him. And I want to see passion. This is Valentine's Day, after all," he said laughing. "Happy Valentine's Day, Susan. This is my gift to you," he said laughing with his friends. I couldn't believe it when I felt the lips of my Princess and felt her tongue explore my mouth while my cock was buried deep inside her. It was magical moment finally French kissing the woman I've loved for five, long frustrating years. I closed my eyes imagining that we'd kiss forever. I imagined she'd dump Rod after this and hopefully have a relationship with me, now that I broke the ice of being intimate with her, albeit forced intimacy that was more like rape. It was everything that I had imagined. She blanked my mind with her kissing. Sadly, pathetically, making love to another man's woman was tragically and traumatically the highlight of my pitiful life. Rod slapped my bare ass with his big hand. "Hump her, dwarf. Hump her. Fuck her, midget. Bang her. You too, Susan, hump him. Fuck him. Move those hips." I humped her once, twice, and again and again until I was as deep inside of her as I could get. She felt wonderful. She felt better than I had ever imagined. I couldn't believe I was making love to my dream woman. I couldn't believe I was fucking my Princess. I could feel my cock throb, stiffen, and pulsate. I could feel her hips humping me back. She was such a good lover that I nearly forget we weren't alone. We were fucking. We were really making love and I loved every second of it. Her cheeks were flushed and I was out of breath. I could feel sweat forming on my forehead, chest, and back. Finally, I was making love to my Princess on the most special of all days, Valentine's Day. Maybe it appeared that I was enjoying myself too much, maybe it appeared that she was enjoying it too much, too, but in an instant he pulled me up by the scruff of my neck and sent me flying across the van, but not before I prematurely ejaculated. It was just an ooze of cum really, not more than a drop. She knew, no doubt, I always wondered. I knew, of course, but no one else knew that I had cum inside her. I forever pondered that moment. She was a good Catholic woman, a parochial school girl, who didn't believe in abortions. What if I had made her pregnant? Nah, what are the odds of that, having intercourse once and depositing only a drop of semen? Princess & Her Friend, Average Joe Shortly after, Rod and Princess made up and were married that summer. I wasn't invited to the wedding. I lost touch with her when Rod was drafted and signed a big contract with a lucrative signing bonus to play third string quarterback on a pro football team and they moved away. I heard that she had a baby boy she named Rod, Jr. I bumped into her nearly five years later at the mall when she returned to visit her family, coincidentally on Valentine's Day. I couldn't help but notice that her four-year-old son looked just like me. She saw me, but Rod didn't. He wouldn't recognize me if I kicked him in the groin. They were a perfect match. He was just as self-absorbed as she had been back then, but she changed. Motherhood was obviously good for her. She looked happy. She smiled, looked down at her son, and then looked back up at me. "Happy Valentine's Day," she said mouthing the words and blowing me a kiss, while Rod walked three feet ahead of her. Our son was the best Valentine's Day gift she could have ever given me.