Campus Corner (Open)

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"Oh, we will. Packed the lube already," I told her in a light teasing tone, whispering. "And Reece, why the hell would she go in there?" I say aloud, coming over and kissing your cheek. "We'll be back tomorrow morning," I tell her before going over to the baby. "Mommy and Daddy are leaving now," I whisper, letting him grasp my finger with a smile. "We'll be back soon, though, okay?" I kiss the baby's forehead. "Aunt Riley's here if you need anything okay?"
 
"What?" I ask. "Bitches be likein' my drawers! And you have to watch these babysitters in your house." I hold my little dude for a minute, which of course makes him start to cry.
 
I gently take the baby and bounce him until he calms down. "He probably needs to be fed soon," I inform Riley, gently handing him to her.
 
"Make him stay out of my underwear drawer," I say as she takes him back from you, now quiet. She rolls her eyes and looks at you again, as I check myself in the mirror one last time until I turn around ready to go out with my hot wife.
 
I smile at her indulgently. "Have fun, again, any concerns, call me," I say. I take your hand and smile. "Time for me to be young again," I tease you.
 
"Want me to treat you like you're in high school?" I ask, my hand running along your ass the second the door closes behind us. "You don't look over 18," I say, suggestively. "I could have fun with that," I smile as I open the car door for you to climb in.
 
I get in the car. "Well, I'd probably have to get us some beer and wine coolers for our room at the hotel, and you'd have to be shy and try to not let me fuck you, and when I wore down your resistance, I'd go at you over and over again, unable to get enough." I lean over and kiss you. "I'll pretend you won homecoming queen, too."
 
I laugh and smile. "I think that'd be nice," I admit. "But after dinner. At dinner I want to be that hot college girl with the hot older fiance."
 
"Yeah, I like her better, anyway. She is the sexiest girl I've ever known." I drive us to your favorite restaurant, a local seafood place called Minter's, where we go inside and I have arranged a private, corner booth with candlelight and a bottle of wine waiting for us, alongside a selection of gourmet bread. "I'm going to spoil you all night," I say. You see the love, and also the longing in my eyes, as it has been a long time since I have gotten to just have you to myself, and make love to you the way we once did, through all hours of the night.
 
I am touched by everything you've set up for us, and I order the shrimp platter as I gently sip my wine and daintily eat the selection of bread, my love for you pouring out as we talk and laugh, and you see how truly and wonderfully happy I am.
 
"What are your thoughts on the wedding?" I ask you, intentionally trying to fire up your romance vein. "Anything special you want to do? I want Mr. Reece to be my best man."
 
"I was thinking Mr. Reece could be the ring bearer," I say with a laugh. "Thought Don was going to be your best man?" I think for a moment. "I want Stacy as my maid of honor," I add.
 
"Yeah, Don will do a better job. And won't poop himself. Probably." I pour you more wine. "I was thinking about a honeymoon in Italy." I look at you for a reaction.
 
I nearly drop my bread into my wine, shocked. "Italy?" I whisper, my eyes going wide, regressing into my 9 year old persona.
 
"Lake Como. Then Florence and Rome. With a stop in Barcelona before we come home," I say. "Or we can go to Cleveland, if you prefer."
 
I roll my eyes and laugh. "That all sounds fantastic!!" I squeal, excited. "When do we start applying for our passports?" I ask eagerly, bouncing up and down in my seat.
 
"We don't need them for Cleveland," I hold my glass up for you to clink it with your own, obviously in a jovial mood.
 
I clink my glass with yours and laugh. "We're going to Italy, love," I insist, my eyes wide and acting like a kid at Christmas.
 
"Good, because I have it booked for September. Which means," I pause, letting you figure out we have only two months to plan a wedding.
 
"Two months?" I ask in slight fear. "I have two months to plan a wedding?" Shit, dress. . . I begin to gnaw at my lip, thinking.
 
"We can do it," I say, grabbing your hand. "Stacie and Don will help. The reception can be done at the bar and we will close for it, so that part will be simple enough." I pour even more wine. "You," I say, just need to be beautiful. And find a tiny, baby tux."
 
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