9 comments/ 81059 views/ 11 favorites What Just Happened? Ep. 01 By: glenlover Series note: This is Episode 1 of the series, "What Just Happened?" It can be read as a standalone story as well. The plan is for this to be a four-episode series. Author's note: I've tried by best to make the spelling and sentence structure American. If something appears out of place, please forgive me. I'm British ;) Anyway, remember to leave a comment after you're done reading. Cheers! ************************ I'll try to be as honest as possible. What I saw yesterday is something I will never forget. Something that will remain etched on my memory for all eternity. And the fact that I don't quite understand it makes writing about it all the more difficult ... Excruciating, to say the least. Frankly, it's not that I don't understand it -- I mean, I do. I know what I saw. I just don't know how react to it, properly. You get me? Anyway. Enough of my ramblings. Let's get right to it. I'm eighteen years old and at the final stages of high school. Graduation is but a few months away. Last week I was with my best friend, Jay, sitting on the delineated curb in our school's parking lot, waiting for my mom to come pick us up. Jay's a white kid. I'm black. We're like brothers. I think the major reason for our strong fraternal relationship is we've lived in close proximity our whole life. That and Jay's mom and my mom have been best friends since their high school days. Or maybe it's because Jay's an only child, like me, and somehow that pushed us to make up for our lack of siblings. So far it's worked well. Until yesterday. My mom was late, hence why Jay and I were seated in the empty parking lot discussing girls. Jay has a crush on Livy Price, a blonde bimbo in our class. Livy's a bitch. I don't like her. I was trying to reason with Jay that going out with Livy was a bad idea. Mom arrived. She apologized for being late. She shouldn't have. It wasn't like we were going to yell at her or something. Anyway, we got into the car and Mom drove off. She and Jay got to talking. They do that a lot. They have this way of pinging sentences and phrases at each other. It's like watching two high school kids together. But that's just my mom: a teenager trapped in the body of a thirty-something-year-old woman. Jay's mom works late more often than not, so he and I spend a lot of time together, either at his place, which is next door to mine, or at my place. We prefer his house, because of the privacy it offers. (We're less likely to get caught smoking pot there). The reason I began my recollection from last week is because it was around that time Jay adopted the curious habit of leaving me alone in his bedroom to run across the street for "stuff". He never told me what "stuff" was, and I never asked. I did notice the exhaustion on his face when he returned, but I always brushed it aside as the effect of long distance sprinting. Wherever he disappeared to had to be pretty far, no doubt. He'd open up to me when he was ready, I thought. Well, yesterday, I figured out his dirty, little secret by accident. I was in his bedroom smoking pot. As expected, Jay decided it was time to run off. I didn't question him. I reclined on his bed and got high. Minutes expired. I glanced out the window. From here I could see inside my kitchen. The lights were on. My mom was right in front of the sink. I remember laughing and thinking, man, if she knew I was getting high she would totally freak. Then I spotted something weird about her comportment. Her face was screwed up, crumbled to bits like she was weeping. I had never seen my mom this melancholic, not since my dad bailed on us, so I was curious. What was she so upset about? I wasn't shocked, not outright. Blame it on the weed. Her hands gripped the edge of the sink and her body trembled. She looked so worn and tense and ... elated? Yeah. Somewhere beneath her distorted expression simmered delight of some sort. I couldn't quite understand it. Her torso was the only part of her body exposed to my line of vision. Mom leaned forward a tad, slanting to the left, and propped her knee on the counter, shuddering. I sat straight. Something was wrong with this picture. For one, the thigh she just lifted was bare. Naked. What was my mom doing in the kitchen, dressed in only her work shirt? And why did she have that odd weepy look on her face? The trembling didn't stop. It got worse. Mom clutched the faucet, her body twisting and jerking. I didn't hear it, but from the way her mouth opened I knew she was wailing. What the fuck was going on, I asked myself? I should have ignored her then. I should have minded my own business and enjoyed my weed. They say the truth shall set you free. You know what I think? The truth doesn't always set us free. Sometimes it traps us in impossible situations. Situations like the one I'm in. I looked on, wondering, questioning, theorizing. Someone could be hurting my mom, and my reaction was to sit, observe and get high? No way. I decided to do something about it. I got up, my eyes still on her, and then I saw. And what I saw thumped my chest and threw me back on the bed. For a moment I forgot how to breathe. I just sat there, jaw hanging, watching in disbelief. I watched Jay rise from behind my mom, shirtless. I watched him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. I watched him lean on her, snake his hands under her armpits and rip her shirt open. Mom's breasts popped out and bounced a little. Jay grabbed them, and then he was moving against her. Grinding. Kissing her neck. Her shoulders. Nausea washed over me. White hot rage pulsed through my veins. Confusion pounded my brain. Countless emotions yanked me from all corners. My mom. My best friend. My own brother. Betrayal. In one split second I was out of Jay's house and bounding towards mine. I sneaked around the other side and came to the backdoor that led into my kitchen. The door has a long and wide transparent glass fitted into it. Funny thing about the glass is, from the inside, with the lights on, you can't quite see what's outside in the dark. But from the outside, everything inside is well exposed. And what I was exposed to shocked the high out of me. The effects of the weed I had been smoking vanished, like I hadn't smoked anything all day. Jay's hands still covered my mom's bountiful tits, but this time around his hips moved with considerable vigour. Swift and hard. Mom reared her head and held on to the faucet for support, flipping her butt back and forth, up and down. It was embarrassing to watch. Disgusting, even. It was also alluring in a strange way. I wanted to look away. I wanted to burst in and yell at them. Beat the shit out of Jay. I couldn't ... somehow. I just knelt beside the door and stared. I had never seen my mom this way before, and I never thought I would. I don't wake up every morning wondering when I'm finally going to see my mom naked and having sex. The sight of her right thigh angled atop the counter and her big, round ass quaking (and what an ass Mom has, my god) got me thinking things I shouldn't be thinking as her son. Jay neglected Mom's breasts and veered his focus to her butt. I saw the raw hunger in his eyes intensify as he ogled her beating, clammy ass. His hands hovered above both boisterous butt cheeks, like he couldn't decide what to do with them. Then his hands descended fast, slapping them. His fingers sank into them. He gripped, and he pounded away like a lunatic on steroids. Mom seemed to love what Jay was doing. The crude, unadulterated gratification sluicing down her face said it all. She turned her head as much as possible to stare back at him, eyes urging ... Mouth spewing soundless words. Her persuasive look compelled Jay to ramp up his speed. Exhaustion and contentment warped his face. His hands rubbed my mom's butt then clutched her hips. He pummeled. Relentless, Jay fucked my willing mom. It must have been minutes, but it felt like I had squatted by the door for years. What revolted and puzzled me the most was how hard my dick grew while I peeped. The ravenous, demanding look on Mom's face transformed into something else -- unbearable expectancy: something was about to happen, something so good it was almost painful to experience. Jay had that same look etched on his face. Mom shut her eyes, bent her head toward the sink, and cried out. Jay titled his head to the ceiling, groaning and twitching. I thought he'd collapse on the floor from the way his knees wobbled. They went at it for a while, Jay emptying himself into Mom, sweating and shaking. Then he retreated, dragging his flabby cock out of her. Mom sank to the tiled floor, her back against the cupboard. Jay settled beside her. They cuddled, his cheek resting on her breast. Mom kissed his forehead and said something. She shifted her tired gaze to the door. To me. I flung myself away, my heart thundering. No, she didn't see me. She couldn't, not through the glass. In retrospect, I shouldn't have been afraid of being spotted. I wasn't the one who had committed a crime. I wasn't the one who had done something forbidden, sordid. But at the time I felt that way, like I had invaded her privacy, which was fucking stupid. I didn't wait around to find out if Mom caught me. I picked myself up and ran back to Jay's bedroom. Jay returned. I saw the weariness in his eyes. The same weariness I had seen yesterday, the day before, right up till the start of last week. I realized that all this time Jay had been fucking my mom. He had lured me to his bedroom on the pretence of hanging out and ran off to fuck my mother. I wanted to kill him. I swear I wanted to rip his head from his neck. I wanted to smash his fucking face with his laptop. He saw I was pissed and asked what he had done, looking all innocent. Can you believe the nerve of this guy? I didn't answer. I just left. At home, Mom had composed herself. She asked me how everything had gone at Jay's. So natural, the way she spoke, the way she said his name. There wasn't the slightest hint he had fucked her only minutes ago, not in her eyes or her smile. Her gait was somewhat unsteady, but a million things could be responsible for that. She worked nine to five, and she was a mother to a teenager. If I hadn't caught her I would have come to that very conclusion: she was exhausted from her usual work. I wouldn't have thought she walked funny because she had been leaning against the kitchen counter and taking it from behind from her eighteen-year-old neighbor, her son's best friend. Fucking bitch. I shrugged, answered her question, and went to my room. All of this happened yesterday. Now, remember I said earlier that I don't know how to react to what I saw. It's true. Here's the thing: something similar happened today again. Jay left me in his bedroom as I anticipated. I waited for about five minutes then made my way through the kitchen door (which I had left open prior to that moment). They didn't hear me coming. I made sure of that. In the living room, atop several couch seats placed on the floor, Mom lay on her back, her legs anchoring Jay's waist, her arms wrapped around his neck. Jay's hips thrashed. The disharmony of their feverish moans and groans filled the room. I don't know how to react, because I can't interrupt them or confront them whenever the opportunity arises. I can't seem to stop myself from sneaking up on them and watching, either. I simply don't know what to do. I'm about to go to bed now (once I'm done writing this). I can't stop thinking about the two of them together. Worse, I can't stop thinking what it would be like if it were me thrusting into my mom and not Jay. Appalled as I am at the thought, I find it fascinating. So fascinating I think I might masturbate to it like I did yesterday. Fuck. What Just Happened? Ep. 02 Series note: This is Episode 2 of the series, "What Just Happened?" It can be read as a standalone story as well. The plan is for this to be a four-episode series. **************************** I'm a horrible person. I know that now. Each time it happens I think, I'm a horrible person, and despite that, I don't stop it from happening again. I don't put an end to it like I should. I welcome it, the same way an addict would welcome cocaine. Jackie's a horrible person too. We both are, though I'm certain of the two of us I'm the first to realise that about us since I was the first to accomplish what we set out to do (I think). Or was it what we joked about doing? I can't tell. The memory of that day is jumbled up in my head. I know if I want to remember -- if I really want to remember -- I will. But I don't. Why? Well, because it's not what I want to write about now. I want to write about the first time. A lesson in history: Jackie and I have been best friends for as long as I can recall. We went to the same high school and college. Whenever we moved houses we ended up in the same street, next to each other. Though I'm black and she's white we have an awful lot in common. For one, our no-good cheating husbands abandoned us. No matter. Adversities like that only serve to bring us closer. Jackie has a son, Jason -- Jay, for short. I have one too: Christopher. A lot in common, see? We're a close-knit family, even though we're not related by blood. I'm going to skip the "why it happened" and go straight to the "how it happened". On one of my work-free nights, while I was unwinding, Jay surprised me with a visit. He had come looking for Chris, which was odd, because I told Jackie earlier that Chris was off to spend the night at his Uncle's and she should inform Jay for me. She hadn't delivered the message. Jackie works too hard and sometimes forgets to do simple things like deliver messages. I don't blame her. She's a single mom with bills and fees to pay. Anyway, Jay asked for Chris and I told him Chris wasn't home. Chris was at his uncle's house in Jersey. I invited him in, as I didn't want him going back to an empty house. Jackie was working late that day and I felt sorry for the kid. Also, he was good company. I enjoyed talking to him. Jay was grateful. He asked me if he was interrupting anything, pointing out my attire. I was clad in a knee length, form fitting black dress. Remember, I was unwinding before he came, listening to jazz music and dancing with myself. I explained this to him and he laughed and made a joke about it. I got him a soda. He sat on the sofa and I danced around while we chatted. Trust me this wasn't an unusual behavior on my part -- dancing and talking. Jay's pretty much used to seeing me act free. I'm the cool aunt, not the conservative type. Plus I was restless that day and didn't feel like sitting or standing in one position. Eventually our conversation swerved from the latest blockbusters to music. Jay, being a white kid and Jackie's kid (lol), wasn't exactly tuned to the rhythm of jazz. I chose to give him a few lessons. He was much obliged. Had I known this simple, playful act would lead us down a dark path I would never have considered it. Jay and I danced, and even though he wasn't adept at moving his feet, he did know a thing or two about twirling his dance partner and moving his hips. I was the expert and I schooled him by practical demonstration. All he had to do was follow my lead. Jay was a good student. He caught on pretty well. So it didn't surprise me when he pulled me by my waist to himself the second I backed him at one point. I waved my body, tapped my feet, shook my hips, and Jay attempted to match my flow. For the most part he succeeded. I should have been worried when I felt him harden against me. He had his firm hands on my hips and grated my rather big butt (ok, really big butt) with his crotch, and I whirled my hips continually, a gesture that encouraged him. I'm ashamed to say I was ... turned on. I hadn't being with a man in long time and having Jay pressed against me, feeling the solid impression of his cock on my ass, drove me to a happy place. My nipples tautened. I decided to stop our dance. I didn't let my shame show. As the adult it was important for me to keep him at ease. Make sure he wasn't mortified by my actions. I laughed and congratulated him on successfully graduating as an experienced dancer, all the while searching his face for any signs of trouble. I found none. He had enjoyed himself, it showed on his face. I did detect something else in his eyes: desire. The way he looked at me, I could tell his hands itched to touch parts of me he wasn't meant to touch. The realization of how Jay felt about me comforted and terrified me. Comforted me, because to be wanted by an eighteen-year-old boy at my age made me feel confident in myself, in my body. Terrified me, because I was present at his birth eighteen years ago; I had changed his diapers more than once; and I'd watched him grow all his life. He was like a son to me. Not only that, he was my son's best friend. I asked Jay if he wanted to stay for dinner. He said he would love to but needed to go home and sort some things out. I offered to walk him to the door. He patted his pockets and claimed he'd dropped his house keys somewhere in the living room while dancing. We got on our knees and searched. Maybe it was a ploy. I don't know and I haven't asked him about it till this day. I was bent over, my cheek pressed on the floor, my vision narrowed to better see under the sofa, and then my dress fluttered up. My first thought was: it's the wind. My second thought was: I haven't got panties on and Jay can see me half-naked. My third thought was: wait, there's no breeze in my living room. Before I could react I felt something press between my butt cheeks. Jay's face. I was startled. I tried to jump to my feet, but his hands clutching my waist made it impossible. I yelled his name in anger. I yelled at him to stop. He didn't. Instead he lapped my pussy. Believe me when I say I was outraged, horrified ... shocked. I couldn't believe this was happening. I couldn't believe Jay would stoop to disrespecting me like this. I wanted to kick him, turn around, and slap him. Then call Jackie and report him. Or call the cops and howl "rape". I wanted to rain abuses on him. I didn't. My knees turned to jelly, my thighs tingled, and I curved my back, shoving my ass in his face, much to my utter astonishment and fear. I swear it was instantaneous. I was right there on the ground, and then his face was between my legs, and I wasn't reacting the way I should. I wasn't trying to get away. I remained where I was and let him carry on. I don't know why. I've thought about it over and again. I've asked myself why. Why, why, why. All I can come up with are maybes. Maybe I allowed it to happen because I had been celibate for so long and needed that kind of attention. Maybe the massive dose of shock I got when his tongue flicked on my love spot paralyzed me. Maybe I had a secret crush on him and what he did was what I had wanted from him for so long. Maybes. Excuses. The truth is I don't have a suitable answer to the question "why". Amid the mess of emotions bludgeoning me, something blossomed in my chest: a warm, overwhelming feeling. It spread its tendrils and took control of my body. Passion. I dug my nails into the carpet, squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my lips together. Jay's hands fell on my butt cheeks, patting, wandering. My ass moved, slow, like I was dancing to one of my favourite RnB songs. My mind was a haze. Our actions had repercussions, I knew, but I wasn't thinking about them. I was thinking: where did Jay learn to use his tongue? I would never have thought him experienced in something as crafty as giving head. Not Jay. Jay who I babysat all these years? Thinking about it now makes me feel humiliated. Yet the truth is Jay ate my pussy better than anyone had ever done before. His tongue and teeth stoked the fire in my clit. I burned all over. I panted, moaned, waved my ass on his face, and gripped the back of his head so I could better urge him to keep eating me. Then my clit exploded. My body shuddered. I wailed as I came really hard. Once it was evident I had climaxed Jay withdrew his face and crawled closer to me. I looked at him. He seemed more than pleased, which wasn't what I expected, and he didn't avoid my gaze out of embarrassment. His eyes held deep lust. He didn't see me as his aunt or his best friend's mom or his mom's best friend; he saw me as an object for his satisfaction. His bold demeanor arrested me. I mean, Jay has always been a confident boy. I've seen him partake in debates at school. But this wasn't a school debate. This was sex with his older, mature neighbor, and it could have gone very wrong. Where did he discover this new self-assurance? He placed his hand on my head and I realized I had been too caught up in my thoughts. As such I hadn't seen him unbuckle his belt, lower his pants and retrieve his dick. His sturdy, curved dick. He sat on the sofa and nudged my head closer to his cock. God, why didn't I end it then? Maybe my initial orgasm had robbed me off my inhibition. Here I go again with the maybes. I started from the base of his cock, trailing my tongue all the way its head, and circling, then licking down the turgid flesh. I swallowed the mushroom head, bobbing my head, sucking. I heard Jay's satisfied groan. His hand on my head pushed and I sank the rest of him inside my mouth. I sucked, blew, spat, and slurped. I utilized my experience and extensive knowledge of sucking dick to the fullest. Jay moaned and moved his hips, fucking my mouth. His hip movements grew erratic and I knew he was close. He cried my name. Actually he cried: Chris' mom. Then he spurted warm, thick cum into my mouth. He ejaculated so much cum some of it issued from my mouth down his cock and onto my sofa. I swallowed, got up and went to the kitchen. I rinsed my mouth. I didn't want to go back to the living room for fear of facing Jay, but I told myself the deed was done. No use crying over spilled milk, I said. Jay did the honorable thing in cleaning the sofa and getting rid of any evidence of our reprehensible act. He smiled when I walked back in and told me he was off home. I didn't know what to say. In circumstances like this you'd expect the teenager to be shy and uncomfortable. But this teenager appeared to be in complete control, like he had achieved a personal goal. It unnerved me, I tell you. I just smiled back and waved goodbye. That night I thought about what we had done. A part of me, the sick part, had enjoyed it. The responsible part had not. The following day my mind was in turmoil. Chris asked me why I looked so bothered. I told him it was nothing. My God, if he ever found out he would never forgive me. I saw Jay when I dropped Chris off at school. He looked at me like nothing had happened. I played along. I thought it was a one-time thing. We had both been mired in the moment, nothing more. That night Chris went over to Jay's. Some minutes afterwards Jay came to my house. I was puzzled. I had thought he was hanging out with Chris. He told me he had to see me. Said he couldn't stop thinking about what we did the other day. I explained to him that what we did was wrong and shouldn't repeat itself. Did he listen? Yeah. Did my explanation have any effect? Not a chance. He put on that infamous self-assurance, stared me in the eye, and I knew it was going to happen again. He saw the confusion in my eyes, along with the fear and longing. He saw them all and used it to his advantage. Then he fucked me on my sofa. Spread my legs, held my left ankle in the air, and rode my pussy until the only words coming out of my mouth were incoherent confessions. The only reason I let him fuck me was his guarantee that Chris wouldn't catch us. Can you believe that? It's been happening for a week now. Chris goes over to Jay's and Jay comes to my house and fucks me. We're going to get caught. I can feel it. How long before Chris decides to come home early one day and catches us in a compromising position? And what will Jackie say? It has to end, and I'm the only one who can end it. But I don't know how to. Or maybe I don't want to end it. There I go again with the maybes. What Just Happened? Ep. 03 Apologies for the late submission. I've had this in my computer for ages and I forgot. *********************** Dear diary, you're not going to believe me when I say, it finally happened. Even I don't believe it myself. I'm still in a whirlwind, so to speak. The confusion and panic have died down now, and I've had ample time to reflect on things. I feel guilty. I also feel ... something else. Ok, let's go back to a month ago. Or maybe further -- years back. I got dumped my ex husband. We were mired in financial difficulties, all because of his fucking gambling addiction, and one day I woke up and he was gone. He had taken most of his stuff with him too. I still remember that day, how much it hurt me and my kid, Jason. How I put on a brave face for Jay, and then cried in the privacy of my bathroom. Yeah. Sucked that bad. Lucky for me, I had my best friend and next door neighbour, Debra, to lean on. She had gone through the same thing last year. God, men are such filthy pigs. Unlucky for me, the experience of losing my husband, no matter how full of shit he was, slung me into a terrible state of depression. On the outside, I was fine. I got a new job as a nurse, got a bank loan with Jerry's help (Debra's brother), and got my son enrolled in a better school. I even sorted out my financial problems. On the inside, I was complete wreck. I was dating worthless men and having one night stands with idiots I met at clubs. The only person who knew what was really going on was Debra, cos she's my best friend and I tell her everything. Even when I don't tell her stuff, she knows. Debra tried to help me. She didn't judge me. She knew what it was like to walk in my shoes, and understood all too well how I felt. You build a life with someone, have a kid for them, and despite their shortcomings, you stick with them regardless. And how does that person repay you for your loyalty and love? By kicking you to the curb. It makes you feel unwanted. Insignificant. And then you start jumping from man to man, seeking some kind of approval; trying to prove that even though the asshole you loved so much left you, there are still a million other men out there who want you. Debra's patience and hard work paid off eventually, and I became a whole new person. The good thing is Jay never found out about my noxious, immature behaviour. Thank God for that. The bad thing is my encounters with these men aided in the growth of a rather unhealthy attraction for black men. I'm not saying black men or black people are bad or unhealthy, just that I've become desensitised to sex with white men. Reason: I don't know. Maybe it's because during my state of madness most of my sexual partners were black men, or maybe it's because my ex husband is white and I'm taking it out on the entire white race (lol j/k). Honestly, I can't say for sure why I've become this way. A while back Debra introduced me to this white guy and we dated for a while. He was a really nice guy, a keeper, and God knows he was well-endowed. But nothing he did in bed pushed the right buttons for me. We broke up after three months. I dated another white guy, and the result was the same. All this time I found myself ogling black men on the street or at work. I'm single now, and I haven't tried dating a black man. Why? I mean, if I'm so attracted to them, why not date one? Because whenever I look at a black man I think about sex. I don't think about a productive relationship that could lead to something special, like marriage. I think about raw, hardcore sex. That's not what I want. I'm a mom, remember? I've got a kid. I should be thinking about what's best for both of us, which is a stable, happy family: me, Jay and a great guy. Well, guess what? Yesterday, I fucked up every chance of that happening anytime soon. In case I didn't mention it before, Debra's black and I'm white. Debra's son, Chris, is black too, obviously (duh). Chris and Jay are best friends. Their tight relationship mirrors mine and Debra's. They're the same age. I've been an aunt to Chris since forever. I remember taking him to parks and pushing him on swings. I remember taking him and Jay to Disney world. Those beach vacations, babysitting sessions, birthdays, school visits -- I was there. I've been a constant in Chris' life. You can say he's my second son. So it was a little alarming when I began noticing him as more than just a kid. It started about a month ago. One afternoon I looked at him through my bedroom window and I saw a strong, lean muscled, attractive boy. I wasn't that drawn to him, in a manner of speaking. I didn't think about sex with him or anything like that. I just saw him as a handsome young man. One day Chris and Jay went off to camp and Debra and I celebrated our momentary freedom from parenthood. We drank wine, watched chick flicks and gossiped. We gossiped about a plethora of things, but the main topics were dating and men. Somehow we got to talking about boys or men significantly younger than us. Debra said she was so frustrated with today's dating scene that she wouldn't mind getting a toy boy. I laughed at this and told her she could have Jay if she'd loan me Chris. I know it sounds like an inappropriate thing to say, but that's how Debra and I talk. Ever since our boys hit puberty we always chatted about how handsome they had become and how many hearts they were breaking at school. Anyway, I told her that and she said she'd gladly take me up on my offer. She said Jay was smoking hot, and confessed that she'd caught him staring at her butt a couple of times. (Yeah, Debra's got a nice big ass. I've got a one too, but not as big as Debra's). It was good comedy. Or maybe we were being serious. I don't know. We started gauging how amenable Chris would be if I came on to him, and how amenable Jay would be if she came on to him. We made bets on which one of us would be the first to bed the other's son. Debra argued she would win based on the fact that Jay had already been sneaking looks at her butt for a while now. I won't lie. At the time of that discussion, and for the first time, I was turned on by the idea of Chris and me in bed. I mean, he's black, he's young and he's hot. What more could I ask for? The next day I barely remembered our wager. The boys returned from their trip and life reverted back to normal. I work at the local hospital. Used to be from late nights to early mornings, but I wasn't happy with that schedule. The only reason I put up with it was because it was good pay. About two weeks ago I requested a change in shift. I took the option to work from four in the afternoon to eight at night. On the day I completed my first new shift I came home to Chris all by himself in my living room. I asked him where Jay was and he said Jay had gone over to his place to get some stuff. I didn't ask what "stuff" meant. Didn't feel I needed to. Jay goes to Chris' all the time. I told him Jay might take a while before returning, because he and Debra were best friends and loved making the most of each other's company. I suggested we adopt the same approach. Chris agreed, smiling. I teased him about his girlfriends and we got into this funny conversation about the rules of dating in high school. I laid out the rules that were in effect in my days and he told me the rules of today. (Yeah, things haven't changed much). It became a recurring event: I'd arrive from work, meet Chris alone in my house and we would talk. The more this happened, the more I looked forward to it. At first I thought it odd that I wasn't coming home to Chris and Jay, but then it hit me: Chris was sending Jay off so he could spend some time with me alone. He always had that expectant look on his face whenever I arrived. Cute. And dangerous. Why dangerous? Cos every time I was around Chris I thought back to the conversation Debra and I had about how receptive Chris would be to the idea of me and him having sex. I thought about our wager, and in doing so I felt, you know, aroused, just like the last time. I didn't act on it, though. I knew whatever Chris felt for me was harmless and fleeting. No need pushing it and scarring the poor boy for life. And even if there was ever a chance of taking it one step further, this was Chris, my son's best friend and my best friend's son. I highly doubt Debra and Jay would be pleased about Chris and me fucking. Still, I was glad. I didn't feel left out anymore. My son had a crush on Debra, and hers had a crush on me. Awesome. Ok. This is it. This is the reason for today's diary entry. Yesterday, I came back from work expecting to find Chris waiting for me in the living room, and all I found was an empty house. I was disappointed, which was ridiculous, because Chris was my best friend's eighteen-year-old son who had a life that involved hanging out with people his age, and here I was upset that he wasn't available to talk to. I slapped myself mentally and went off to my room. I changed from my nurse uniform to a white babydoll sans panties and went to the bathroom. Somehow, in the process of trying to fix the shower curtain, I slipped and fell. I yowled. I was lying on my back when the door opened. Chris stood above me. It took me a while to realise my flimsy attire had bunched up my waist and my crotch was exposed. I blushed and struggled to adjust my outfit. Chris didn't turn around or run off. Concerned, he helped me sit on the toilet lid and checked my ankles. I insisted I was fine, but he refused to go until he was certain nothing was broken. Really, I was fine. I should have been adamant in my claim, maybe pushed him out. Instead I allowed him hold my ankles and flex them. My ankles felt funny, weak. In fact, my whole body felt weak, and it had to do with Chris touching me. I wanted him to play with my ankles. I wanted him to do more. Well, you know what they say: be careful what you wish for. When Chris was satisfied with the state of my ankles he looked up at me. I think he was going to say something but it got caught in his throat. I was silent as well, just staring at him. Panic overtook me. Confusion followed. Anticipation pounded in the background. His hands left my ankles, trailing up my calves, past my knees, and paused on my thighs. Foreign emotions bubbled inside me. What was he doing? I was itching to ask him that. God, my heart drummed so fast. He leaned up. I squeaked something, probably asked him to stop, I don't know. It's all still a blur. Whatever I said had no effect on him. His lips covered mine. Captured mine. Moved against mine. His tongue teased my lips apart, counted my teeth, and then tangled with my inert tongue. He's a great kisser, that boy. Chris did most of the kissing. Me, I just sat and let him have his way, wondering what the fuck was going on. Wondering how I would explain this to Debra and Jay if we got caught. My task was clear: I had to put an end to what Chris had started before we crossed that invisible line, cos when you cross that line there's no going back. I was wondering, and then his hands grasped my breasts and his fingers tweaked my nipples, and I stopped wondering. That single action shattered whatever resistance I had left. A soft sigh broke from my mouth and my tongue moved with his. My lips moved with his. Our kissing grew more demanding. At some point we were practically eating each other's lips and sucking each other's tongues. I instigated these actions; Chris learned quick and adopted them. I shrugged the straps of my lingerie off my shoulders to give Chris more freedom over my tits, and Chris yanked my lingerie up my thighs to my stomach, exposing my pussy. We did all this while still kissing and grunting. Chris unbuckled his belt and his undid his jeans zipper. He pushed me back, spread my thighs, lifted my left leg into the crook of his arm, and drove into me. Lord, have mercy. My pussy sang. It had nothing to do with how endowed he was, though I was impressed with his size. For whatever reason, Chris penetrating me pushed all the right buttons. Just like that. I was stunned. My body shuddered. My eyes watered. I crooned. Then he started fucking me. I don't mean slow and steady thrusting. I mean fast and furious pounding. Like I had done something terrible to him and this was his way of getting back at me. I didn't mind. It didn't even matter that I was a tad uncomfortable, perched on the toilet lid, back curved to accommodate him. My hands gripped his shoulders from behind and I rocked my body to his crazy rhythm. Two or so minutes in, I came hard. Now, when I cum hard I squirt. Nothing bizarre. Just a moderate amount of expelled jet fuel (that's what I call it -- jet fuel lol). It's an amazing feeling, squirting. When it's about to happen I feel like the wiring in my pussy has crossed and sparks are flying all over the place. When it does happen I feel like my pussy has exploded into a billion sparkling bits. I wailed my announcement, nudged Chris out of me and gritted my teeth. As the colourless liquid spurted forth and washed over Chris' thighs, my face twitched, my body convulsed and my legs flailed. See what I mean? This excited Chris. I saw it in his eyes. The second my pussy was done expelling cum he shoved his dick back in. He didn't care that my pussy was at its most sensitive state; he began fucking me as fast and as hard as before. I didn't care either. I wanted him to fuck me harder and that's exactly what he did. Each time he thrust in the nerves in my clit sizzled and burned. Excruciating pleasure. Chris rode me to multiple orgasms, and when he climaxed, bursting and gushing inside me, I was both relieved and saddened our fuck-fest had come to an end. My bathroom's tiled floor was a slippery mess, thanks to my incessant squirting. Chris was nice enough to clean it for me. We were a bit shy around each other afterwards. Downstairs, I asked him how he felt and he said he felt good about what we'd done. He assured me he wouldn't tell Jay or Debra, and left for home just as Jay arrived. Thank God Jay hadn't come sooner. I know I should have been responsible and told Chris what we did was a huge mistake and a one-off. It was a huge mistake. Believe me, thinking about it right now gets me all confused and terrified. I've betrayed Jay and Debra. God help me if they find out. But a one-off? Who am I kidding? Anyway, it's the weekend and Jay's gone for the day to visit some friends. Chris excluded himself from the trip, claiming tiredness. Then he called me and asked if he could come over and help me clean up. I have nothing that needs cleaning up. The dishes, I can do on my own. Yet, I said yes to him. I'm digging myself into a hole, and I can't seem to stop.