Текст книги "Baking and Babies"
Автор книги: Tara Sivec
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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 15 страниц)
He always knows just the right thing to say to make me feel better.
Chapter 20
– Pez Penis –
Marco
“It’s fine. It happens to a lot of guys.”
Molly rubs the palm of her hand in slow circles against my back and gives me a sympathetic smile.
“It’s not fine and it doesn’t happen to me!” I yell, immediately feeling bad for raising my voice when she’s being so nice and understanding. She shouldn’t be nice. She should be laughing and making fun of me and storming out of here in disgust. It’s what I deserve.
“Seriously, it’s no big deal. Stop beating yourself up about it.”
She leans in closer and kisses the top of my shoulder.
“This is embarrassing. I swear to God this has never happened to me before, ask anyone,” I mutter.
All I wanted was to give Molly a perfect, romantic, wonderful night. Was that too much to ask? Am I being punished because I still haven’t told her about Alfanso D.? It’s not like I can just blurt it out. I thought if I turned on the charm and left her feeling satisfied, she’d have no choice but to forgive me. I can’t do anything right.
“Marco, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. We can try again later,” she encourages, running her fingers through my hair.
Her touch makes my dick stir, and I’m honestly a little surprised I can still get it up at this point.
“It won’t be the same,” I mumble. “The first time is always special and now I’ve ruined it.”
She sighs and wraps her arms around my waist, squeezing me tight.
“It’s because of me, isn’t it? You’re off your game because every time you look at me you remember the worst blowjob you’ve ever received,” she whispers sadly.
Quickly turning towards her, I cradle her face in my hands and stare into her eyes.
“Stop it. This has nothing to do with you, I swear,” I reassure her. “You turn me on just by breathing. I promise you, that blowjob was stellar, and regardless of the puke, your determination and won’t-quit attitude scored you a lot of blowjob points in my book.”
She smiles at me, and I drop my hands from her face to wrap them around her back and pull her closer.
“It really does happen to everyone, it’s not that big of a deal.”
I scoff and raise one eyebrow at her. “Has this ever happened to you before?”
She bites her bottom lip, but doesn’t say anything.
“See?! It’s just me! I’M the problem!”
“No you’re not,” Molly says with a sigh. “I just haven’t been doing it as long as you.”
She drops her arms from around my waist as I turn towards the kitchen counter, picking up the ruined soufflé with a scowl.
“Exactly my point,” I tell her, walking over to the garbage can and dumping the dessert angrily inside. “I’m a pro. I’ve been baking soufflés since I was in elementary school, and I have NEVER had one collapse. This is mortifying.”
I could blame Molly for ruining the dessert, but that’s not exactly fair. I’m the one who was holding the oven door open to check on it when she got here twenty minutes ago and I’m the one who let the handle slip from my hands and slam shut when she walked into the kitchen wearing a tiny, blue strapless dress that clung to her tits, hugged her curves and fit her like a second skin. Her long, shiny black hair was curled into soft waves that hung around her shoulders, and don’t even get me started on the matching blue fuck-me heels she had on that made her tall enough for her lips to be perfectly aligned with mine when she stood in front of me.
Maybe the soufflé could have survived the slamming of the oven door, but I definitely killed it when I grabbed her hips, turned her around and repeatedly pushed her body against the double oven to kiss her. And then I made sure it would never survive by continuing to hump her against the damn oven while I lost my mind between her legs with my tongue in her mouth.
Not only was she so fucking hot it made me want to drop to my knees and thank God for bringing her into my life, she looked so worried and nervous standing in the middle of my kitchen while she fidgeted with the dress and nervously shifted back and forth on her feet. When she shyly whispered that Ava picked out her clothes and did her hair and that she felt stupid, I knew I had to do something to erase that panicked look from her face like she was waiting for me to laugh at how she looked.
“So, now that my plan of making you fall madly in love with me as soon as you took a bite of my world famous soufflé that I never share with students is ruined, what do you want to do?” I ask, deciding to stop being a baby over a stupid dessert and concentrate on the gorgeous woman standing in my kitchen.
I spent all day cleaning this place up so it didn’t look like a pigsty bachelor pad, and I made sure any evidence of Alfanso D. was safely hidden out of sight. I am determined to come clean with her tonight, but I want it to come from me and not have her find out by seeing all of my notes for the next book lying around. Since I trade working summers every year with another teacher, this is my summer to be off for three months and every minute I haven’t been with Molly, I’ve been working on the book. My entire apartment was littered with sheets of notebook paper with scribbled ideas on them, post-it notes with recipes stuck to all the walls, and several copies of Seduction and Sugar lying all over the place so I could go back and reference whatever I needed. Now that everything has been shoved into the spare bedroom closet, I don’t have to worry about her finding something before I can explain it myself. Which WILL happen before this night is over.
“Hmmmm, what should we do?” Molly ponders, tapping a finger against her lips. “I believe you mentioned something about getting naked in your text.”
Tell her right now before she gets naked. Molly naked will result in you turning stupid.
“Yes, I believe I did say something to that effect. Why don’t we sit down and talk first,” I suggest as she walks slowly around me and heads into the living room.
Perfect, she wants to talk. Chicks always want to talk before getting to the good stuff. Just pretend like she never mentioned getting naked and everything will be fine.
I follow behind Molly, unable to move my eyes away from her ass as her hips gently sway while she walks into my living room. When she turns around in front of the couch, I’m still staring and now my eyes are glued to her crotch.
Focus, dammit! Don’t think about what her pussy looks like. Don’t drool wondering if it’s shaved or full-on bush, trimmed or cut into a neat little design like a lightning bolt or arrow pointing down. Move your eyes up, asshole!
“We could talk, sure,” Molly says softly, her fingers playing with the hem of her dress that stops at the top of her thighs.
Fuck, her legs are so long and smooth with just a hint of muscle definition that assures me she could wrap them around my shoulders and hold on for dear life.
GAAAAAAAAAH, FOCUS! I’m Alfanso D., I’m Alfanso D. Just get it over with!
“Great! Perfect,” I reply with a clap of my hands, entirely too excited to sit down and talk instead of sitting down and burying my face in her vagina. “How about we sit on the couch and talk.”
And then I’ll bury my face in your vagina.
“How about you start talking and I’ll get comfortable.”
Mentally screaming at my dick to take a nap for a few minutes instead of trying to claw his way through my zipper, I smile and take a step towards the couch, figuring Molly is going to take her shoes off and put her feet up on the coffee table to get comfortable or something.
I barely take one step towards the couch before my feet refuse to move and I freeze like a deer caught in headlights.
When Molly said she’d get comfortable, she really meant it. In one smooth, quick motion, she grabs the hem of her dress and quickly slides the material up and off her body, tossing it to the side where it lands in a puddle on the carpet.
“Sweet baby back ribs,” I whisper.
Molly crosses one leg in front of the other and casually clasps her hands together behind her ass, the motion pushing her tits out until I’m pretty sure I feel a little drool dripping down my chin.
She’s wearing a black lace thong and a matching black lace strapless bra, the material so sheer I can see her nipples. And Land O’Lakes what wonderful nipples they are.
“Do you still want to talk or is there something else you’d rather do?” she asks innocently.
Talk? What’s talk? Who said talk? Do I know the word talk?
“I might have a few ideas, but I think I need a little more inspiration,” I tell her quietly, surprised I’m able to unglue my tongue from the top of my mouth and remember how to string words together.
Her hands move up behind her back and she expertly unclasps the hook of her bra, the sheer black lace dropping from her body to land at her feet.
“Damn, you’re like a ninja with that thing,” I whisper, unable to remove my eyes from her naked tits. “It takes me at least five tries to unhook a bra. It’s like I have giant gorilla fingers whenever I get near those damn things.”
Okay, I know I said I wanted to talk, but this is just pathetic. Why am I rambling about gorilla fingers when there’s a half-naked woman in my living room with the best pair of tits this side of the Mississippi. And the other side of the Mississippi. And all down the fucking Mississippi.
STOP THINKING ABOUT MISSISSIPPI AND START THINKING ABOUT TITS, YOU PUSSY!
While I’m busy standing in the middle of my living room having an argument in my head, Molly walks towards me until she’s right in front of me. She slides her hands around my waist and presses her naked body against me. I can feel her nipples poking into my pecs, and I swear I hear the sound of my zipper ripping to shreds as my dick tries to hulk his way out of my jeans and into the Promised Land.
My head finally catches up with my body and I move my hands to her hips, sliding them around to clutch her smooth, perfect ass.
“I’m just going to apologize ahead of time for ruining this,” I whisper.
“Why would you ruin this?” she asks, pressing her hips against mine and gently kissing my chin.
“I mean, I wouldn’t ruin it, but I’m pretty sure my dick will,” I mutter, moaning softly when she kisses a trail across my jaw and to my neck.
“My dick is an asshole and never listens to me. You’re so fucking hot and beautiful, and I’m pretty positive he’s going to ignore all the baseball stats and college football teams I can name in alphabetical order and come in about five seconds if you keep doing that,” I ramble in one long incoherent sentence, moaning again when she wraps her lips around my earlobe and gently tugs on it with her teeth. “Fucking hell, you’re so good at this.”
Her lips immediately disappear from my ear and she leans back just enough so I can see her face. Gone is the confidence and determination I love so much and in its place is the same nervous and scared look she had when she first walked into my kitchen.
“Hey, what’s wrong? Was it the dick thing? I was just kidding. Sort of. I mean, I’ve always been able to last as long as I need to, but I’ve never been with someone I fantasized about for two years. I’m having a hard time believing this isn’t a dream, but I promise I’ll try my best to keep my dick in line,” I over-explain.
She laughs softly and shakes her head. “It’s stupid, but I need to tell you something. Ava told me to tell you but Charlotte told me to keep my mouth shut because it would ruin everything, but I can’t do it. I am really out of my element here and Ava even made me practice this in front of the mirror until I could do it without rolling my eyes or covering myself up but I still feel like a liar and a hypocrite and I don’t want to keep this from you because I really like you. I more than like you. I’m just going to spit out and if you want me to leave, I’ll understand.”
I don’t feel so bad anymore about the whole gorilla fingers thing when Molly rambles without taking a breath and it just makes me want to stick her in my pocket and keep her forever. You know, if Harry Potter were a real person and he’d let me borrow his wand to make her tiny. But there would have to be a reverse spell where I could make her big again so she’d have normal-size hands and a normal-size mouth and a normal-size vagina because I might not have a dick the size of a python, but I’m pretty sure it could still kill a teeny tiny Molly that fits in my pocket.
Mental patient, party of me, your padded cell is now available.
Removing one hand from her ass, I bring it between us and under her chin, tipping her face up so she’ll stop staring at a spot in the middle of my chest and look at me.
“No matter what you tell me, I would never make you leave, Molly. Don’t you get it? Don’t you see what you’ve done to me?” I rasp. “I’ve never been this crazy or this tied up in knots before and it’s all because of you. Because you’re just as amazing as I thought you’d be when I first saw you in the school kitchen with powdered sugar on your cheek and more talent in your pinky finger than the entire class put together.”
I see tears pooling in her eyes and it makes my heart skip a beat, which I’m pretty sure might be a sign of a stroke or possibly a heart attack but since I still have feeling in my left arm, I’m just going to ignore it.
“I think I’ve been in love with you since that very first day when the entire class groaned after I said we’d be starting with sugar sculptures and your eyes lit up in excitement,” I tell her with a smile. “I know it’s crazy, and I know we’re in the middle of a shit show situation with your family, and I know we’ve only spent a few weeks together, but I’m falling in love with you Molly Gilmore. I love how much you care about your insane family, even if you try to deny it. I love your talent in the kitchen, and I love that you’re a hard ass with everyone but me. I love your smile and your laugh and how you smell like apples and cinnamon and how being with you is as easy as breathing.”
She closes her eyes to stop the tears from falling, opening them right back up to roll them at me in that fucking adorable way I love so much.
“You’re crazy and wonderful, and I think I’m falling in love with you too, and I’m still a virgin, but technically I’ve kind of, sort of had sex, so I use the term partial-virgin because it was one time and he only partially got his penis in before he finished, and his penis was literally the size of a piece of Pez candy and my sisters like to call him Pez Penis now and make fun of me because now I’m a pregnant partial-virgin, and I just wanted you to know because I don’t want to keep any secrets from you.”
She finally stops talking and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly.
I know I should have paid really close attention to every word she said, but she talked incredibly fast and my brain shut down after the words “falling in love with you too” and “virgin”. Then it came right back to life when she said she didn’t want to keep any secrets from me. Now is my chance. Now is the perfect opportunity to tell her who I am. It doesn’t get any better than this moment, right here.
“Say something so I don’t feel like even more of an idiot because I’m half-naked in your living room, talking like a dumb girl about dumb feelings and other dumb girl stuff that gives me hives,” she complains.
I open my mouth to spit it out, I swear I do. The words are right there on my tongue and I even take a deep breath, full of confidence now that I know she loves me back. Then Molly has to go and move her hips, doing this incredible little swirling motion that rubs her lace-covered vagina against my dick.
I’m such a cheap whore with a one-track mind.
“So, when you say partial-virgin, it’s because you and some fuck-for-brains were naked and something resembling sex occurred, correct?” I ask.
You know, just to clarify and make sure we’re on the same page.
“Sure, I guess you could put it that way,” she nods, still moving her hips the tiniest bit, just to make sure my dick is paying attention. “His penis, was legit the size of the head of your penis. My fingers have gone deeper than his Pez dispenser.”
And that’s it, folks. My brain is tapping out and my dick is now in charge. When a chick talks about fingering herself, there’s no coming back from that shit.
In one quick motion, I keep one arm behind her back and bend down to slide the other one behind her knees, scooping her up into my arms as I charge through the living room, down the hall and into my bedroom.
“If you’re okay with this, I’d like to release you of your partial-virgin status,” I tell her as I gently lay her on top of my bed and move on top of her, holding myself up on my arms so I don’t crush her.
“I think I’m more than okay with that,” she whispers, sliding her fingers through my hair at the back of my head and pulling my face down to hers.
“You should probably start reciting those football teams now,” she breathes against my lips. “Don’t forget I was raised in a sex shop. I took my first steps in the lesbian porn aisle and my first word was orgasm.”
She wraps her legs around my hips, locking her ankles together against my ass and uses her muscles to pull the lower half of my body closer until my denim-covered dick is nestled right against the heat of her soon-to-be no longer a partial-virgin vagina.
Her hips start rocking against mine, and I tell myself it’s totally fine if I wait one more day to tell her about Alfanso D. She is in need of my expertise and who am I to let a woman in need down?
“Air Force, Akron, Alabama, Appalachian State, Arizona,” I begin chanting softly between kisses as I move down her neck and across her chest before wrapping my lips around one of her perfect nipples.
Molly’s back arches and she lets out a low moan that makes my dick twitch and with excitement.
“Arwiwona Fate, Arwansas Fate, Wamy,” I recite with a muffled voice, refusing to remove my mouth from her nipple.
“God I love football,” Molly says with a sigh.
Chapter 21
– Drunk Babies –
Marco
“Beated up the hooky again, Uncle! Ooooh, steal anodder car and shoot more people!” Valerie shouts with excitement as she bounces up and down on the couch next to me.
“It’s pronounced hooker, not hooky, and I don’t need to steal another car right now, sweetie,” I explain, jerking my body to the left as I aim the PlayStation controller at the screen and make my car swerve around a pedestrian.
Letting my four-year-old niece watch me play Grand Theft Auto for the last hour probably wasn’t the best decision I’ve ever made, but at least it kept her in one place instead of screaming and climbing the walls.
No, seriously, she actually climbed the wall in my bedroom like fucking Spiderman. It’s Tessa’s fault. She told me to give her a piece of chocolate every time Valerie goes to the bathroom on her own. No one gives me a Snicker’s when I take a shit without assistance, but whatever. Valerie must have a bladder the size of…I don’t know, something really fucking small because she has gone to the bathroom every two minutes for the last three hours. I’ll let her swim in the sugar bowl as long as she doesn’t piss on the carpet.
“Shoot him in the head! Make his head explode!” Valerie screams, clapping her hands together when I shoot a cop trying to arrest me.
“Do you remember what I told you, Val?” I ask, pausing the game to look down at her.
“Grand Feft Auto isn’t real life. It’s bad to shoot people, even hookies. I mean hookers,” she tells me with a serious face.
“You’ve learned well, Grasshopper,” I reply with a nod and a pat to the top of her head.
Once I finally found something to hold her interest for more than two seconds that wouldn’t cause death or dismemberment and a seriously pissed off sister, it actually hasn’t been so bad hanging out with my niece. When I asked Tessa if I could babysit her for a few hours today, I thought she was going to choke to death she laughed so hard. After she finally stopped laughing and realized I wasn’t laughing with her and I was totally serious, I had to sit there for an hour while she gave me a quick course on Babysitting for Dummies. When she finished and gave me a list of telephone numbers for every person she’s ever met in her entire life, including the numbers of ever hospital in a three-hundred mile radius, she made me sign a piece of paper stating she has permission to cut off my balls with a pair of rusty scissors if anything worse than a paper cut happens to her child under my care.
I’ve had a goofy fucking grin on my face ever since I successfully took care of that pesky partial-virgin status for Molly, but at the same time, I feel like the biggest jerk in the world that she trusted me and gave something so important to me and I still haven’t managed to tell her the truth. The more time we spend together and the longer I wait, the worse I feel, yet I keep coming up with one excuse after another to keep putting it off.
Molly’s giving me a blowjob—it can wait.
Molly’s naked in my living room—what’s one more day?
Molly wakes me up with her head under the covers and her mouth on my dick—she needs to rebuild that confidence and overcome the penis puke, I can’t ruin that.
Molly takes me on a tour of Seduction and Snacks and asks me to fuck her in the warehouse in the vibrator aisle—I swear I’ll do it after her orgasm when she’s relaxed but one orgasm turned into four and I needed a nap.
Molly asks me to help her with a troubling recipe, and before I know it, there’s chocolate sauce on my penis and dripping off her tits—chocolate on tits is delicious. No explanation needed.
Molly brings home toys from work and asks if I want to watch her use them—I AM JUST A MAN, STANDING IN FRONT OF A WOMAN, ASKING HER TO GET HERSELF OFF!
Before I knew it, the day before the wedding was upon us and I knew I needed to wait until it was over. Charlotte has turned into a bridezilla, and Molly is stressed about her parents finding out the real truth and them being mad at her for lying. She has too much on her mind right now that it wouldn’t be right to add one more thing that I know will upset her.
Since there’s no use denying how much of an asshole I am and I’m scared to death Molly will never trust me again or let me put my penis inside her which would be a tragedy I’ll never recover from, I’m doing whatever I can to show her I’m not that person anymore. I overheard her talking to Ava on the phone last week when she thought I was sleeping and I still can’t get her words out of my head. She was on her iPad going back through every damn post I made on the Alfanso D. page for the last six months. Even though I couldn’t hear what Ava was saying, it wasn’t too hard to figure out whenever Molly would say, “I know, right? He’s such a pig” or, “You’ve got to be a pretty stupid woman to ever sleep with someone like that.”
Yes, I was a pig. Yes, I was a bit of a man whore and yes, I exploited my sexcapades in a cookbook. I put up posts about how easy it was to sleep with any woman you wanted as long as you fed her chocolate. I made comments putting women down, putting relationships down and putting people down who had kids. I was that guy. The frat boy who refused to grow up.
Well, I’m assuming my behavior was like a frat boy since I was never actually in a frat, even though I tried to join one and was asked to never come back when I suggested we all go to a cooking class instead of doing keg stands.
And this leads us to where I am now, the day before Charlotte and Gavin’s wedding where Charlotte will finally break the news to her betrothed (after he says I do of course, so he’s less likely to leave the country), Molly will finally get to stop pretending she’s pregnant, and I’ll get to stop flinching every time her father jumps out at me and screams “BOO!”. Actually, that will probably always happen even after he finds out I didn’t impregnate his daughter since he still thinks I like to beat-off to photos of his wife.
I spent the last few days going back and forth with my publisher about this next cookbook and a new idea I came up with, trying to convince them I can make it just as good as the first one. They finally agreed last night, which brings me to the reason I am currently teaching my niece fun new vocabulary words and how to properly execute a kill shot while in a high-speed chase. Molly changed everything and I want her to know that even if she never trusts me again. What was originally going to be a sequel to Seduction and Sugar with even more over-the-top sex stories and matching recipes, is now: Baking and Babies: How to Spice it Up in the Kitchen AND the Bedroom When You Have Kids.
I’ve listened to Molly’s aunts and uncles and her mom and dad tell stories over the last few weeks about what it was like after they added kids to the mix and how they managed to keep the romance alive. Some were funny, some were sweet, and some were downright horrifying. Pampers really needs to get their act together if babies can manage to shit so much that it leaks out of their diaper, up their back and sometimes in their hair. I’m a grown ass man and even I can’t produce that much shit at one time.
All these stories were perfect for this cookbook, but I knew I needed real-life experience. The people who loved my first cookbook loved it because I shared a big piece of myself and my life on every page, even if I did it in a really slutty way and was never afraid to admit it on social media. A few hours with my niece seemed like the perfect way to get some experience as well as spend some time with her and learn how to not be so afraid of kids. They’re not so bad once you get the hang of it. They really are like tiny drunk people and I’ve been around my share of enough drunk people to know the following rules apply to both:
1. Be prepared to make a Taco Bell run for the border. They will scream for Taco Bell (can be substituted for McDonalds) until you have no choice but to give in and go to the drive-thru in your pajamas in the middle of the night if you want them to shut up.
2. Never let them out of your sight, especially around sharp objects, things that are flammable or anything they might trip over and hurt themselves.
3. Smile and nod no matter what they mumble, slur, scream, or cry. Pretending like you understand them will eliminate arguments and or more crying.
4. If they say they’re going to puke, do not hesitate to move your ass. Carry them like a football, drag them by the arm or toss them over your shoulder. Do whatever it takes to get them to a toilet, bush, sink or in some cases, the side of the road.
5. Know that accidents will happen. They can and will pee their pants, shit their pants and if you ignore number 4, puke on you and themselves. Keep a change of clothes and a container of wipes on hand at all times.
6. Watch what you say. If it’s something you don’t want repeated very loudly to everyone within shouting distance, don’t say it. Everything you say can and will be very hilarious to them and they take enjoyment in your misery.
7. Some of them like to be naked. They have no shame and don’t see the problem with taking their clothes off in public. Understand that clothes can sometimes annoy them. The clothes make them hot, make them itch, are too tight, too loose, or too ugly. Calmly tell them they have to put their clothes back on and offer assistance. If that doesn’t work, some may become argumentative and may even lash out by kicking, screaming, biting and or hitting. If that happens, throw your coat or the closest blanket around them and drag them away.
8. Always be firm and speak slowly, enunciating each word carefully. They don’t always understand the words coming out of your mouth so try not to lose your temper or get frustrated. Don’t be afraid to use a loud voice or threaten punishment, especially if their life could be at risk.
9. Never let them use your cell phone, iPad, iPod, laptop, or any other device that will connect them to your social media. They can and will post very bad things, but just know they aren’t doing it on purpose. It’s very easy to punch a few random buttons and the next thing you know, there’s a dick pick you sent to your girlfriend and forgot to erase on Facebook and your mother has been tagged.
10. Memorize the number for Poison Control.
I really should buy Valerie a pony or something. A few hours with her and this book practically wrote itself.
Valerie suddenly jumps down from the couch and runs out of the room.
“Hey! Where are you going?” I shout.
“I GOTTA PEE!” she replies.
Tessa really needs to get that shit checked. I haven’t even given her anything to drink since she’s been here just to try and prevent any accidents. While I listen to the sounds of the toilet flushing and the sink running and know Valerie didn’t somehow escape from a window, I quickly send a text to Tessa and tell her to call Valerie’s pediatrician.
Tessa immediately replies with a comment about how I just might make a good dad someday, and I pat myself on the back until she sends another text immediately after, telling me to just make sure I pick the right woman and not try to fertilize the entire state.
It’s annoying, but I deserve it. I’m going to prove to everyone with this cookbook that I’ve grown up and it’s all because of Molly.
Tossing my phone onto the coffee table, I watch Valerie come racing back into the room and hop back up on the couch next to me.
“Did you wash your hands?” I ask.
She reaches up and wipes her wet hands on my cheeks.
“That better be water and not pee,” I mutter, wiping the wetness off my face.
“Hump-hump-hump, I just peed on you!” she shouts, falling back into the couch in a fit of giggles.
Her laughter stops abruptly and she quickly sits back up, holding her hand out in front of me.
“I went poop. Gimme chocolate,” she states.
I reach for the bag of Hershey Kisses on the table next to the couch and try not to panic when I realize it’s empty. Valerie looks at the empty bag in clutched in my hand, her eyes filling with tears and her bottom lip starting to quiver.
