Velour Couch

Playfully, she tousled his curly brown hair, and then kissed him on his stunned lips.

"Go, go," she ordered. "Off to bed with you."

"And w-w-w-w-where are y-y*-y-y-you g-g-g-g-going?" he stammered.

Honestly?" she asked "My apartment lay down on the couch, take a nap now that I'm all full and stuff."

B-b-b-b-bed's p-p-p-pre-pretty b-b-b-big," Brennan offered, and then groaned, covering his eyes with his hand.

Carrie stared at him for a long moment then slowly shrugged.

"Why not?" she decided out loud. "Bed is pretty big."

Brennan blushed, stammered and stuttered even worse than usual and got a very long pillow out of the closet in the second bedroom and laid it down, neatly bisecting the bed down the middle.

"Oh, like those grocery store thingies," Carrie laughed and again wiggled under the comforter.

"Egg-gg-gg-zact-t-t-tly!" Brennan smiled.

He walked around, slipped off his shoes and socks, and then after a moment's hesitation, slipped out of his jeans and polo shirt.

His cock, which had been semi-erect from the moment Carrie had kissed him, playful kiss though her kiss was, swelled painfully in his briefs as he felt the bed shake and jostle as Carrie stripped off her maternity pants.

He had to pull the waistband of his underwear down to free his cock when he felt more jostling as she removed more clothing.

He almost spurted involuntarily when even more jostling occurred and Brennan was now sharing a bed with a sexy, pregnant, and nude eighteen year old girl.

Finally, even though his excitement, the need for sleep took him and Brennan dreamt, as he normally did, of his ex-wife. And again, she mocked him, imitating his stutter while telling him she'd only married him because she felt sorry for him, but now that she had a real man, she was leaving him.

"L-l-l-l-loser," she had taunted when Brennan tearfully begged her not to leave him.

Even though they'd been married for just over one year, it still cost Brennan nineteen thousand dollars, half of his income that year. Thankfully, his attorney (which cost him forty five hundred dollars) managed to keep Brennan's ex-wife, and her smirking boyfriend, from laying claim to Brennan's inheritance from his mother's estate, or the money he'd invested in two apartment buildings in DeGarde, Louisiana.

Within three months of their divorce, though, she'd come back, claiming that she was sorry and begging for forgiveness.

She didn't say it, but Brennan knew her boyfriend had spent every last penny of the nineteen thousand dollars, then ran up her credit cards on his other girlfriend, a long legged blonde dancer, then left town with the girlfriend.

Brennan invited the wife in, fucked her, almost savagely, then gathered up her purse, clothes, and shoes, put them just outside the apartment door, then pushed her out the door after them.

"L-l-l-l-loser," he said and slammed and locked the door.

But in his dreams, they were still married, still happy, and still affectionate. Pushing her out the door had pushed his heart right out the door with her, but Brennan knew he had no choice.

Carrie came to, seeing that once again, it was almost dark outside. Brennan didn't stutter when he snored, that was for sure.

Softly, to avoid waking him, she slithered out of the bed and gathered her clothes.

Nude, she scampered to his bathroom; sure she would burst before she reached it, but just managed to flop down onto the commode before her bladder let loose.

She dressed in the bathroom, and then softly padded back into the bedroom. He was still snoring heartily and did not stop when she crawled back into the bed.

He did pause briefly when she leaned over and kissed his bare shoulder.

"Thanks," she whispered into his ear quietly. "See you later, okay?"

"Hey, girl! Where you been?" Stacy demanded, waddling into Carrie's apartment. "Oh, thank God I only got five more weeks; I swear to God, I am so ready to get this over with!"

Stacy didn't wait for Carrie's response, just monopolized the conversation, telling Carrie all about the baby bed her mother had bought.

"I'm like 'Mom, we're in a crappy one room apartment; where the fuck we going put this, huh?'" Stacy rambled on while Carrie opened two cans of vegetable soup and heated them.

"Yeah, why y'all in a one room apartment anyway?" Carrie suddenly asked. "I mean, you working, Frank's working; why y'all don't get y'all one of them two bedroom ones, huh?"

Stacy mumbled something about medical bills but Carrie knew every penny of Frank's was going to his ex-wife and their two sons.

As soon as the last spoonful of soup had been scraped out of her bowl, Stacy left.

At five minutes after eight the following morning, Frank knocked on Carrie's door and even tried the knob.

Inside the apartment, Carrie smiled tightly.

"What?" she asked, opening the door.

Stacy had reached the first traffic light when she realized she'd forgotten her wallet; Frank had borrowed twenty dollars and did not put her wallet back into her purse.

She turned around and drove back to the apartment complex.

Outside of Carrie's apartment, Frank stared hard at Carrie as she refused to let him enter her apartment. His cock, which had been hard thinking of her sexy round belly and bald pussy, was now throbbing painfully as he thought of pushing her face down into the cushions of her couch and taking her savagely.

"I said no more, Frank; I have a boyfriend now," Carrie said, tight smile firmly on her face.

"Aw your lying fat ass," Frank sneered. "Who the fuck but me would want anything to do with your pregnant ass?"

Carrie's smile tightened even more as she looked past Frank.

"You mother fucker!" Stacy screamed, punching Frank in the back with all her might.

"And YOU!" Stacy screamed at her friend.

"I wanted to tell you," Carrie burst into tears. "But how the fuck could I tell my best friend that her boyfriend got me drunk and raped me, huh?"

"He what?" Stacy screamed.

"And then said he's going to tell you I begged him for it unless I keep giving up the pussy," Carrie sobbed on, reaching out for her friend.

Stacy saw that Carrie was not smiling tightly and knew she was telling the truth.

Frank was rubbing his back, claiming it hurt when it did not. He just wanted Stacy's sympathy, not her anger.

His ploy didn't work, pregnant or not, Stacy's knee found his unfaithful testicles just fine.

Carrie's tears fell onto the armrest of the loveseat. She wiped her dripping nose with the back of her hand and rested that hand on the cushion.

"And the baby?" Stacy asked, pointing at Carrie's belly.

"Probably his; it was the wrong time at that party," Carrie admitted.

An hour later, Brennan smiled as he heard Carrie's two wheeled cart squeak past his door. But because he was still in his briefs, and had not showered or shaved, he did not open the door to greet her.

Four hours later, he was in his office, answering an email from his agent when he heard the cart squeak past, but she was already in her apartment by the time he got to the door.

Inside her apartment, Carrie cried more tears; Lily had tearfully let her know that she had to let her go. But the summer time was usually a pretty slow time for flowers. Directly overhead, she could hear slamming and banging and thumping and knew Stacy was up there, packing either Frank's things, or her own.

"Come in," Carrie called out when someone knocked on her door.

"H-h-h-hey, h-h-h-h-how y-y-y..." Brennan asked.

"Come on in," Carrie sniffed, waving him to the couch.

"Wh-wh-wh-what's wr-wr-wr-wr..." Brennan asked.

"Got fired today," Carrie sobbed out and hugged him.

"Oh n-n-n-no!" Brennan said, trying hard to focus on being helpful to her, rather than focusing on her soft breasts and hard belly and plump thigh pressed against him.

He could smell her shampoo, could tell that it was a cheap harsh brand, but he could also feel her wet face pressed into the space between his neck and his shoulder.

"It's g-g-g-g-going t-t-t-to b-b-b-be okay," he soothed.

"How Brennan? Fuck! I can't afford next month's rent and I just got my power bill and I got... God, I just want to crawl in bed and pull the covers over my head," Carrie wailed.

"Okay, l-l-l-l-let's g-g-g-g-go," Brennan said, relieved.

A bed she could crawl into and pull the covers over her head was a solution he could offer readily.

"Oh, and b-b-br-br-br-bring a n-n-n-n-night g-g-g-g-gown or s-s-s-s-someth-th-th-thing, okay?" he said.

"Why? Don't like me sleeping naked?" she sniffled, a smile coming to her face.

"L-l-l-l-like it t-t-t-t-too m-m-m-much," he admitted.

"Brennan!" she gasped. "I'm pregnant!"

"And b-b-b-beaut-t-t-t..." he stuttered.

"Aw, thank you," she said and kissed him. "But all right, you don't want me naked, I'll get my nightgown."

"Oh, I w-w-w-w-want y-y-y-you n-n-n-na..." he stuttered.

"Shut up Brennan," she smiled, grabbing her tattered old flannel nightgown.

Carrie followed Brennan to his apartment, clutching her own pillow and her nightgown.

Inside his bedroom, she didn't know what to think, whether to be mad or amused that the long pillow was still in the bed, still dividing it in half. As if he had expected her to come back.

Just as she kicked off her flip flops, a knock sounded at the door and Brennan went to answer the knock.

"W-w-w-w-wow! Th-th-th-that w-w-w-was qua-qua-qua-quick!" Brennan said as the UPS driver had him sign for a package.

Inside the cardboard box was a cordless electric toothbrush and Brennan immediately went into 'work' mode.

Carrie stripped out of her clothes, began to pull the flannel gown on, then shrugged and left the hot gown off.

She listened as Brennan talked to himself as he examined whatever the UPS driver had delivered and noticed, he had hardly any stutter at all when talking with himself.

Again, it was the smell of food and Carrie reached around until she found her nightgown and pulled it on, then slithered out of the bed.

"Thank you," she said, hugging Brennan from behind.

"W-w-w-welc-c-c-c-come," he said.

"You know, I noticed, you don't stutter when you talk to yourself," she said. "Why don't you pretend you're just talking to yourself?"

"Okay," he said and then stuttered so horribly she couldn't understand any of what he was trying to say.

"Good God, write it down; you're a brilliant writer," she ordered him.

"You're beautiful; you make me nervous because I just know you're too pretty for me and you'll just make fun of me and I wish that baby you're carrying was mine and I wish I could talk and tell you all of that but I'm a big loser and can't even get a real job because of my stuttering," he rapidly scribbled out.

She jerked the pen out of his hand.

"What?" she snapped at him, angrily. "You think I'm that fucking shallow? That I'd make fun of you?"

"Well, you wouldn't even fucking say 'hi' to me," he yelled, absolutely no stutter in his voice at all.

She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.

"Fuck! You're right!" she admitted. "God, Brennan, I'm so sorry! God, what a bitch! I am such a..."

"N-n-n-no y-y-y-you're n-n-n-not," he said.

"Yes I am," she said and hugged him again.

"Th-th-th-thank y-y-y-you," he stammered.

"Thank you for what?" she asked as he put two plates on the table.

"F-f-f-for th-th-th-that h-h-h-hug," he said.

"Oh, you mean this?" she asked and hugged him again.

"Y-y-yeah," he said.

She smiled and sat down to eat.

"Oh, hey, I move that pillow, you going try to fuck me?" Carrie asked and Brennan almost choked on his bite of food.

"N-n-n-no!" he protested. "I w-w-w-w-would n-n-n-new-v-v-v..."

"How about I accidentally roll over on your side?" Carrie asked and continued to eat.

"N-n-n-no," Brennan again protested.

"What about if I suck your dick?" Carrie asked.

"W-w-w-well, y-y-yeah, I m-m-m-might," Brennan laughed.

"Men, I swear, y'all are all the same," Carrie huffed.

Upstairs, Stacy screamed in frustration. Her mother had very calmly told her, there was no room at her home.

"You made your bed? You lie in it. I've already raised my two girls and one boy," her mother said.

And the landlord let her know, sorry, but there were no available units.

Her name wasn't on the lease, even though Frank had tried to get Stacy to assume all the responsibilities for the rent and utilities, claiming his ex-wife might try to go after that money too.

She stomped down the stairs and to Carrie's apartment.

Inside Brennan's living room, still in her nightgown, Carrie watched a fairly interesting show on the Travel Channel; Brennan got all the available channels PC Nation offered.

She's smirked; when he'd turned it on, a sports program had popped up.

"Typical man, I swear," she teased, ruffling his curly hair.

She heard someone knocking on a door and wondered if it might be hers.

Inside his office, Brennan heard his front door open. A moment later, he heard two female voices.

"What are you doing over there? I thought you said that guy's weird," Stacy demanded, not bothering to lower her voice.

"Shush!" Carrie ordered angrily. "Go back; I'll be right there, all right?"

Carrie closed the door on Stacy's retort and scampered to Brennan's office door.

"Hey, my girlfriend's all upset about something so I'll be at my place a bit, okay?" Carrie said.

"Oh, um, y-y-y-y'all c-c-c-c-can j-j-j..." Brennan protested.

"No; you're working," Carrie said firmly, retrieving her purse.

Brennan realized, after his front door closed, his ex-wife would not have cared that he was working; she would have loudly and shrilly brought her friends into the house. They would have been loud, shrill, probably drunk or high. They would have ignored his not so subtle hint of slamming his office door.

At her apartment, Carrie listened to her friend's complaints and tale of woe and looked at the already quite crowded one room apartment.

"I guess you can have the couch," Carrie decided.

"You were over there? In your nightgown?" Stacy finally noticed Carrie's garb.

"Why not?" Carrie asked. "Brennan's working so I was sleeping in his big old bed; God! It's the best, I swear!"

"But I thought he was..." Stacy said.

"Well, he's not, okay?" Carrie defended.

Carrie dressed in another outfit, put on her too tight, uncomfortable tennis shoes and somberly followed Stacy up the stairs. She carried what boxes she could but told Stacy adamantly she was not about to attempt hefting the baby bed.

"Some friend you are," Stacy huffed.

"Exactly what I was thinking," Carrie spat back.

In his apartment, Brennan stopped long enough to eat, then went right back to work. The meal was a somber one; he missed the eighteen year old girl's company.

"I can't believe she's only eighteen," he said out loud.

Then he smiled.

"And I c-c-c-can't b-b-b-believe she s-s-s-said th-th-that!" he said, remembering her comment about sucking his dick.

He actually had to go masturbate, thinking of the sweet faced brunette sucking his cock. His ex-wife would suck him for only a minute, claiming the taste and texture of semen made her ill. She did tell him, though; she sucked her boyfriend's cock and loved the taste and texture of a 'real man's' come.

The next morning, in Carrie's apartment, Stacy complained bitterly about the lumpy couch, the uncomfortable material, the lack of pillows.

"Gave you one of my pillows, gave you a sheet and two blankets, God, Stacy, need me come in there and wipe your ass for you too?" Carrie yelled as Stacy monopolized the bathroom while she got ready for work.

The moment Stacy left for work, Carrie did not even bother changing out of her nightgown; she just scampered to Two A.

"Hi, please tell me you have coffee; I swear to God, she's my best friend, but I want to kill her," Carrie said when a bleary eyed Brennan opened the door.

"You getting ready to go to bed?" she asked and he mutely nodded.

"Oh, okay, now remember, no trying to fuck me, you hear?" she said as she followed him into the bedroom and crawled into the bed.

"Ok-k-k-kay," he stammered, ogling her nude body before she pulled the comforter over herself.

"And get rid of this," she demanded, grabbing the long pillow and throwing it on the floor on her side of the bed.

Brennan stripped out of his jeans and button up shirt and slid into the bed.

Carrie woke up, saw that they'd been asleep for nearly five hours, which would explain why she was hungry and smiled. Brennan was lying in the same position he'd been in when he climbed into the bed, snoring.

Dimly, she could hear someone pounding on a door, but gave it no thought as she wiggled over to Brennan's side of the bed.

Brennan was dreaming, but not of his ex-wife. He was dreaming that Carrie had told him she loved him and couldn't live without him.

Then she took his cock into her mouth, flicking her tongue all around his sensitive glans.

"And I love you too, baby," Brennan said, no stutter in his voice. "But you keep doing that and..."

Carrie heard Brennan declare his love for her just before the first spurts of his semen flooded her mouth. She realized, as she swallowed rapidly, he had not stuttered as he declared his love for her.

Brennan's cock was a little thicker than Jack's cock, and Jack's cock was a little thicker and longer than Frank's cock. Carrie, however, was entranced by the size of Brennan's testicles and she toyed with the two large orbs in their long, loosely hanging sac as she sucked his cock back to erection.

"Oh!" Brennan sighed, now realizing that it wasn't a dream.

"God damned cunts, all of them, I fucking swear!" Frank snarled as he stood outside of Carrie's apartment, hammering on the door.

Fifth Home

Stacy, since she worked at the courthouse, did have a little pull and was able to get a hearing very quickly.

Frank, through his attorney, pleaded that to pay Stacy child support, on top of the alimony and child support he was already paying his ex-wife, as well as truck note, would leave him destitute.

"Sir, I do not care if you have to eat red beans out of a can and sleep in the bed of your pickup truck," the judge snapped. "Might I suggest you either learn to wear condoms, or get a vasectomy, or better still, quit sticking your penis into young ladies' vaginas, but you are going to pay for this child. Our taxpayers are already stretched to the breaking point without having to pay for your thoughtlessness."

Carrie didn't know how Brennan managed to do it, but he had gotten her out of her six month lease and transferred it over to Stacy.

Stacy and Carrie and Brennan had brought the baby bed down from Frank's apartment, but then realized that, either the couch, or the old bed would have to go. Carrie's aunt didn't want it, and Carrie's cousin didn't want the bed either, so Stacy kept the velour couch, which was now liberally stained with Stacy's spilled food while the bed went into the dumpster.

Then Brennan, without reading the instructional pamphlet that came with the bed, assembled the baby bed and put it where Carrie's old bed had been.

"N-n-now c-c-come on; I'm s-s-s-sleep-p-py," Brennan ordered, grabbing Carrie's hand.

"Okay," Carrie smiled. "But you better not try to fuck me, hear?"

She squealed with laughter when Brennan picked her up and carried her to the bedroom.

Carrie knew by now, if she sucked his first load out of him, Brennan could last a lot longer in her pussy. So, the moment Brennan crawled into the bed, she swallowed his cock down to the root, slurping noisily.

In Apartment Three C, Frank took his clothes and left everything else; it had no value to him and dropped his keys on the ground in front of the absent landlord's door.

Then he moved in with a high school buddy and very quickly tried to bed his friend's wife.