"Papa, can I eat this banana?" Pao asks when I was still supervising Iva gobbling the steamed broccoli, since we're going with baby-led weaning.
"Are you sure you wanna eat it? Can you take a smaller banana? You just ate dinner, it's too big I think. You wouldn't be able to finish the whole thing. Why don't you grab a smaller one on the counter, hm Princesa?"
She turns to Estelle that is still eating her food, "Mama, is this banana too big?"
"Nahh, it's average." She answers nonchalantly to which I put my hand on my chest, "Ouch. That hurts." Because that banana is the size of my ding dong.
She laughs once she realises what she just said, "It is what it is, Papa."
👱🏻 "We shouldn't do this, Owen." At this rate I'm just gonna agree to anything she says because tomorrow night she'll be here again, asking for another dose of release. We're in a toxic cycle alright, but we're definitely communicating healthily. I listen to her rant about the guilt she has for coming over to my room almost every night, but she can't help it because according to her, her judgement is currently being clouded with hormones. And I do talk to her as well, opening up about my hope that we unite as a couple, for ourselves and also for our daughters. But she asks for time, since she's still in therapy so she could be heavily influenced by the drugs she's taking daily. We function as best friends from day to day, co-parenting our kids in this apartment, though I do plan sometime in the future to convince her about all of us moving back to my place, to where it all began. "Do you want me to stop?" I ask her after she whines a couple more times. She bites her lips as sh
"Emulsion doesn't exist in the formation," I try to control my voice as I maintain the eye contact, "It's actually formed when the hydrocarbon enters the wellbore, into the casing, which we'll have this pressure difference that will mix the oil and water like crazy, creating the emulsions." I definitely feel some sort of accomplishment to be able to finish my explanation as I pant, finally allowing my body to feel the exhaustion from moving too fast while answering his question that perhaps, will be in the paper I'm gonna take tomorrow. "Tell me about emulsifying agent." He smiles as he watches me ride him at my own pace, slow and steady but still giving both of us plenty of pleasure. "Uhmm," I release my hand from his shoulders then sit up, "When water is in the oil, they're surrounded by this tough film. That tough urgh," I choke on my words when he suddenly moves his erection from below, charging in at fast speed. "Go on," he smirks as he keeps thr
As usual, after I finish my finals, I'd spend six weeks with my bestfriends somewhere we've decided to go months before. It's actually one of the things that keep me in the business, to aim for lotsa money so I can enjoy my vacation like a heiress instead of who I really am. Three weeks in Italy, another three in Greece, then the three of us bid goodbye until next year because we're gonna go for our internship at three different locations. Well, I thought I'd stay with Kimmie in London but at the very last minute the company I'm really interested with suddenly called and offered a place so hereeee I am, New York! Instead of starting my internship in September, I took the initiative in offering myself for an earlier enrolment. They're absolutely delighted to receive me in August instead of a month after. While me, on the other hand, is beyond thrilled to have a reason not to go back home prior internship. I'd rather spend a month at the most ex
I don't think I'm the only girl who wants a man who has money, is nice, good looking, and loyal. I mean, that should be the bare minimum for the criteria of a husband. Example one: my sister. She is the first in our family who got married. Just like me, she's pretty, funny, and everything you want as a girlfriend and wife. But she chose to marry that boy she met at church. Urgh, they might have the most beautiful pair of kids but they sure live not up to my standard. I mean, I've been in that middle class family for eighteen years. I'd be stupid to want to stay that way when I have every means to change my life. So I really don't understand why someone like my sister would marry my brother in law. Like I get it, he tall he's handsome he's like a freaking model but he's a technician! And now they're living in the same neighbourhood as my parents. Urgh. Poor life decision. God is sure merciful when He gives me another example with my brother, th
So far I've known he's very easy to get along with, has a sense of humor, and definitely gives me this cool-guy vibes. "I don't think I should waste your time," I begin my little speech about not taking the position that's being offered when he suddenly cuts me off, "You're gorgeous, you're hilarious, if anything it's definitely not wasting my time. I'm honoured you'd spend your time with me this long in fact." I grin at his seems-to-be-sincere compliment, and decide to scratch my itch before going further with my no, "You're good looking, and funny, obviously have tons of money, so why would you need a sugar baby? I seriously don't get it." He smiles as he sips his drink, "Perhaps you should say yes to know the reason, hmm?" "You know I'm gonna say no since the beginning?" "Miss Collins did tell me about your rejection." I know how things go in Cupcake. He'd be presented with a few profiles, he'd select one, then he'd have a meeting with her.
As usual, once I steer clear of the client, I take out my phone and type his name for a G****e search to know more about who's I'm gonna be dealing with for the next three months. Or one day. Depending on the top secret requiring-NDA-signed reason. Though yeah, I'm very curious to know his dating history, what he owns or to be specific, how did he gain his wealth. Most importantly, what juicy gossips I can gather from the internet; the ones their PR team decided to be known to the world. 'Owen Harris is an English former professional footballer-' I choke on my saliva reading that last word. Footballer? Professional footballer? Okay. Explains the muscles. 'Born, height, spouse, number, children', okay boring. Because the only part that's filled is the born, number, and height. But good, he's not cheating then. No wife, no kids. Nothing against my principles. Because there's no way I'm gonna be with a cheating douchebag, not even for a m
"Here's your room," he opens the door on our left as I can't help but to ask, "And whose door is this?" when I see another one on the opposite of my new bedroom door. "That would be mine, there's only two rooms on this floor so here, come in," and he pushes the door to reveal my new chamber for the next three months. My jaw totally drops seeing how huge the space is. It's like having a separate apartment. A mini living area with a cream colored couch, a super duper large bed at the end of the room, with a door that I believe is the ensuite bathroom. Don't tell me he also has a walk in closet for me? Cause that would be sick! I've always wanted one, and pretend that I indeed have it every time I stay at those luxurious suites with my sugar daddies, even for a short few-days vacation. But to have one here, on a long stay, dedicated specially for me, "Oh wow." "Do you like it?" He asks as he stands in front of the shelves in the walk-in c
Setting the temperature of the oven after sliding the tray with the giant chicken on it, I admire his back in awe. Mhmmm yummy. "Do you know how to cook?" He asks once he turns around, now standing in front of the kitchen counter, facing me. Only this giant marble thing is separating the two of us. "Not a pro but yeah, a bit." I'm from a middle class family, of course I know how to feed myself. It's not like we're blessed with a helper. But to answer with a confident yes doesn't seem like an option if we were to compare our skill level. The pots and pans picture? The pose in his chef outfit while holding a knife? Well turns out he sells them and is the ambassador of his own brand. That definitely killed my laugh yesterday when I read about that fact. That company alone must have worth millions. Besides having his own business producing all sorts of cookware, he also has five restaurants all over the world. But surprisingly, none in England. Weird, bec
👱🏻 "We shouldn't do this, Owen." At this rate I'm just gonna agree to anything she says because tomorrow night she'll be here again, asking for another dose of release. We're in a toxic cycle alright, but we're definitely communicating healthily. I listen to her rant about the guilt she has for coming over to my room almost every night, but she can't help it because according to her, her judgement is currently being clouded with hormones. And I do talk to her as well, opening up about my hope that we unite as a couple, for ourselves and also for our daughters. But she asks for time, since she's still in therapy so she could be heavily influenced by the drugs she's taking daily. We function as best friends from day to day, co-parenting our kids in this apartment, though I do plan sometime in the future to convince her about all of us moving back to my place, to where it all began. "Do you want me to stop?" I ask her after she whines a couple more times. She bites her lips as sh
👱🏻's POV"Papa, can I eat this banana?" Pao asks when I was still supervising Iva gobbling the steamed broccoli, since we're going with baby-led weaning."Are you sure you wanna eat it? Can you take a smaller banana? You just ate dinner, it's too big I think. You wouldn't be able to finish the whole thing. Why don't you grab a smaller one on the counter, hm Princesa?"She turns to Estelle that is still eating her food, "Mama, is this banana too big?""Nahh, it's average." She answers nonchalantly to which I put my hand on my chest, "Ouch. That hurts." Because that banana is the size of my ding dong.She laughs once she realises what she just said, "It is what it is, Papa."
🧑🏼's POVHugo has moved to Barcelona three months ago so we're officially living in one place since then.Yes, we. Including me, the father of these girls.Iva is seven months old now so she has started eating solid food last month. That means she's sleeping better and longer, also drinking milk lesser making both of us much more relaxed since she's only up during the day and sound asleep the entire night.Which only means..."Where are you going?" I ask her when she comes out of her room dressed in an off-shoulder red dress that hugs her curves perfectly. Her boobs look hella amazing with a deep cleavage showed through the
👱🏻's POVShe gives birth to our daughter at the mark of her 39th week of pregnancy after spending nearly two weeks at the hospital, arrested for bedrest all thanks to me and my stupidity.Me, of all people, know how high risk is her pregnancy but of course I have to screw it up by being immature myself for her immature actions. I should've shut up instead of screaming at her when she was obviously scared, her whole body trembled with blood drained from her face. I fucking owe it to her if anything happens to our daughter.Thankfully we're blessed with a healthy dark-haired, clear blue eyes baby girl, or should I say, she gave birth to a mini her. I'm officially a father to three girls.I make it possible to fly her best friends as soon as possible and pla
"How far along are you?"The fact that this would be the first time he has ever said anything to me since the fight makes me stop drinking my water as I put down the glass on the hard surface in front of me, finally taking the whole view of the man I didn't share the bed with last night. Instead, I cried like a pathetic human being on the couch while talking to my best friends.Well, just two more nights then he can relieve his duty to Kimmie since she's wrapping up her work to be here with me until delivery.As of last night's video call, I'm instructed to engage with my psychologist first thing in the morning because according to her, "This is a cry for help, exactly like five years ago. Call her, set an appointment, talk to her before you become suicidal again
I really don't wanna leave work when the clock hits 6, wanting to delay as long as I can by pretending I need to finish up everything though in reality, all those can wait. Time goes so slow until I've had it with my back pain so I packup and leave the office. If he stays, he stays. If he doesn't, so what. Life goes on. Afterall, I never wanted to be with him after the baby's out. It's just me and my girls. As expected, he's not home when I unlock my place at 10. I don't have the appetite to eat because all I want to do once I realise he really isn't home is to lie on the bed and hide under the blanket. It's pathetic of me to look for him at every corner after what I did. I literally sent him away in a silver platter. I drop my bag on the floor then go under the duvet without minding my work clothes, covering my
"Pao, can you tell Papa again what you just told me?"The man who just returned from his morning jog stops drinking his water immediately, eyeing his daughter who's busy making a bead necklace with Mia at the kitchen island."Hmmm? Which part?" She asks, still focusing on her art."The boy part.""Boy?" I knew he'd react this way, "What boy? Why? What happened? And which boy is this? Do I know him? What happened, Pao?""Relax, he didn't do anything." I jump in before he over-reacts further making all of us uncomfortable."Yeah, he just kissed me." The little girl answers nonchalantly to which his Papa raises his voice in shock, "What?!"
"Be honest, do I look pretty?"I have this important meeting today at the office so I'm hoping my pregnancy won't be the spotlight. My work should be, as always. I sometimes hate how I get special treatment just because I'm pregnant, or the fact this is my first baby after ten years. I'm not fragile, I'm just pregnant.I mean, yeah, thank you for being sensitive. But I can work just fine. Stop asking me to go home when it's only 4. I'm capable to stay until late evening, just as I've been doing every Monday and Tuesday for the past seven months."You want me to be honest or to tell you pretty?"I can't believe he had the audacity to joke like that when I'm all serious this morning.He grins perhaps finally catching the invisi
Have you ever done something stupid which afterwards when you've recovered from the high, you now feel the cringe every time you remember the bits of it?I wish I didn't sleep with him last night.I wish I thought about it, and said no instead of diving into it. Though I did say no, I was just weak; incapable to decline his charm. I mean, who'd say no to a fine specimen like that, someone who you've been fantasising for a while now.I wore his shirt for a reason, and why would I settle for the shirt if I can have the man himself. Why would I smell the shirt to feel him when I can have him right inside me, filling me to the brim.I've spent the entire day at the office thinking