Pucked (Pucked, #1)

I hold out my hand. “Give them to me.” I don’t need a crying woman with scissors near my dick.

Violet passes them over. Sinking to the floor in front of me, she wrings her hands in distress. I take a deep breath and think of Grandma Waters without her teeth. It seems to help with the deflation enough so I can slip the scissors between my shaft and the string. With one snip I’m free, and the circulation to the head returns. I flop back on the couch, heaving a huge sigh of relief as the blood flow equalizes and the ache fades.

“Alex?” Violet asks in a small, watery voice.

I don’t open my eyes because I don’t want to see her crying. Then I can’t be mad at her any more. Considering I’ve had a pair of scissors against my dick, I definitely want to be angry for a few minutes.

I grunt.

“I guess that wasn’t a very good idea.”

“Ya think?” I snort derisively and crack an eyelid. Then I feel bad; she’s crying.

“I’m sorry. I thought I tied it loose enough.” She plucks the small cape from my lap. “I even measured it against the circumference of my hand span.” Violet demonstrates by forming a circle with her forefinger and thumb. “I thought Velcro would chafe.”

My dick is still hanging out of my shorts, shrinking slowly. I notice lettering on the back of the cape. I grab it out of her hand and inspect it. The M and C are designed in such a way to mimic the S on a Superman cape. It’s also blue and red.

“Where did you get this?”

“I made it.”

“You made a cape for my dick?” I expect weirdness from Violet because frankly, sometimes she’s a little weird. Or a lot.

“I thought it would be funny.”

I continue to stare at her.

“I guess I was wrong.” She looks down at her hands, biting her lip.

“I guess so.”

“I could make it up to both of you.” She looks at me with wide, not-innocent eyes and tentatively puts her hand on my thigh about six inches away from my mostly-soft-but-starting-to-get-hard-again dick.

While I don’t want Violet to think she has to perform sexual favors in order to redeem herself for almost causing permanent damage to my dick, my superhero cock feels differently. Violet smiles softly and she walks her fingers up my leg.

“Mouth or boobs?” She gently peels the googly eye stickers off the head. Thank God she didn’t use glue.

“Both.” I’m feeling selfish.

“Okay.” Violet kisses the tip, looking me in the eye before she engulfs the head. She pops off for a second. “But I want you to finish inside me, if that’s all right with you.”

“I guess I can do that.” That’s me being generous.





In homage to the near fatal choking of my dick, Violet makes her own Play-Doh so she can fashion a replica. We make a trip to Bracebridge so she can buy craft supplies and fix the cape. This time she uses Velcro to secure the tie. She dresses up the penis replica as Super MC. It’s the centerpiece on the kitchen table, so we can look at it whenever we’re eating. It’s bizarre and something Violet would totally do.

And I still love her. In fact, for some crazy reason, I love her even more than I did before this whacked out vacation. I’ve got the ring tucked safely away in the nightstand drawer. Now, I need to put it on her finger. Over the past couple of days, I’ve come up with what I think is a good plan for a proposal. Violet isn’t flashy; she’ll appreciate something less ostentatious than, say, a public profession of unending love. Besides, I’ve already done that. Tomorrow is our last day here, and then it’s back to reality. I need to bite the bullet tonight.

No problem. Dinner is covered; there’s a salad in the fridge, and all I have to do is put the steak and potatoes on the barbecue. Afterward, we can have dessert on the dock. I’ll ask her to be my wife while we watch the sun go down. The mosquitos better keep the fuck away.

After a day of dock hopping, Violet is tired. She stretches and yawns. This is perfect. I’ll be able to set everything up while she’s having a nap.

“Maybe you should lie down for a while before dinner,” I suggest.

“Mmm. That sounds nice.” Violet takes a few steps toward the bedroom. When I don’t follow. she stops. “Aren’t you coming?” She pulls her shirt over her head and drops it on the floor.

“Maybe for a few minutes.” A little pre-nap sex wouldn’t hurt. I can get dinner started after she falls asleep.

As soon as I’m on the bed she straddles me and pulls the tie on her bikini top, setting her boobs free.