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My Son's Best Friend Ch. 01

By: TabooDreaming



This is my first attempt at writing. Most of the events I've written about below are mainly true, with a little flair added. Feedback would be greatly appreciated. 

*

My name is Jenna Smith, I'm 47 years old and have been divorced now for a little over a year. When Donald and I decided to get divorced, it was quite mutual; none of that screaming or sleeping around you see on TV, we'd simply grown apart, and Matt, our youngest son, was old enough now how the world worked. He was nearing graduation and would be leaving for his first year of college soon, and we made sure that he understood what was happening. To be honest, I think that our two oldest sons, Greg and Steve, had a much more difficult time dealing with the situation, but that may have been because they'd moved out years ago and hadn't seen the signs that Matt had seen.

As the divorce settled, everything remained civil; I'd remained in the house with Matt, and Donald moved across town, which was much closer to his work anyways. The first few days were awkward, not having him there, but that soon passed.

Life went back to normal for me, and Matt finished up his senior year of school with flying colors. He spent most of that summer before college doing what he always did; spending lots of time with his girlfriend Vanessa and his best friend Alex. She was a sweet girl that Matt had known for years in school, and Alex was his best friend since they were children, having met in kindergarten. Alex and Matt did everything together from being in the same classes, to swimming and running on the school team. 

As for me personally, being divorced for some reason had me feeling all of a sudden very self-conscious about my body. It wasn't that I'd gotten super fat or anything, but I think all women can agree that once they're married, they tend to let certain things go and not focus much on the looks department (and their husbands too, for that matter). Getting back into the routine wasn't difficult, I'd always enjoyed swimming and yoga, but it seems that I'd let that slip in the last few years. Soon I was back in the pool every morning at 6am before work, and twice a week there was a Yoga studio not far from the office, so it was soon part of my day, leaving work for a nice stretch. One Saturday morning after a particularly intense swim I caught a glimpse of some toning and definition in my tummy. I was ecstatic! I felt like a teenager again; well, that's about the last time I'd seen any kind of muscle around that area! I'd gotten into what was probably the best shape I could be in for my age, at 5'5 with shoulder length dark hair, I'd dropped down to 145 lbs., which is what I was at before having kids. My breasts were at a 38D, a nice size considering my recently narrowing waistline.

I felt like I was on top of the world. I quickly dressed with a black, silky thong underneath my tight new black yoga pants and a matching push-up bra, not that my breasts needed much of the lift these days (this was new too, I've seen all the young girls parading around in them, but I'd never had the guts to wear them myself until recently) and a white t-shirt that was nicely fitted to my body. I left the ladies change room and proceeded down the hall back to the main entrance of the rec centre, when something caught my eye; I don't know what came over me, but down the hall I saw an athletic young man bent over, tying his shoelaces. The way he was positioned gave me a great view of his butt, and it looked amazing: nice, tight, and muscular to boot. He shifted his weight slightly as he moved to tie the other shoe, I wasn't even aware of my staring, or my grin from ear to ear that had crept onto my face. As I was about to pass by, he stood and turned towards me.

"Hey Mrs. Smith" Alex said to me. I almost fell back from shock, it was Matt's best friend, the boy I'd watched grow up! I quickly regained myself and responded, "Hi Alex, it's just Ms. now, no need for the Mrs."

Alex looked a little embarrassed and sheepishly replied "Sorry about that Ms. Smith, I guess I was used to saying it the other way." He looked down a little bit and didn't seem to know what to say now.

"Don't even worry about it Alex, it's completely fine, you're not the first to have called me that, it's no big deal." I waved my hand in a gesture to show that it was not any sort of issue. "Just going to work out now?"

Alex replied, "Yes Ms. Smith, Matt wants to get together later for some beers and videogames so I thought I'd hit the gym now." 

"As per usual then I guess" I laughed lightly. With school out, they seemed to be playing those new games all the time. "I'll see you later then, Alex."

"See you" Alex turned and walked towards the weight room. I instinctively found my eyes being glued to his body once more. When had Alex grown into such an attractive young man? Even stranger, I'd felt that tingle between my legs that I hadn't felt in what years. 

The rest of my morning was uneventful as I picked up a few things for dinner. Matt had gone out shopping with his girlfriend and wouldn't be back for another two hours. That afternoon had turned into a particularly warm one, and as I stood cutting vegetables in the kitchen I felt the heat start to get to me, a drop of perspiration sliding down the back of my neck.

"I need to get into something lighter", I thought to myself. Moving from the kitchen to the stairs leading to the master bedroom, I slipped out of my yoga pants and shirt; standing in front of the mirror and admiring the sight in front of me, wearing only my matching set of black thong and bra. "Not bad Jenna, not bad at all." After pawing through my dresser and pulling out a number of shorts that I didn't want to wear, I thought, "There's no one home, I'll just finish prepping dinner in this and then change before Matt gets home." 

As I made my way back, I realized it was likely the first time I'd walked through the house donning only bra and panties since before the kids were born. The kitchen felt much, much cooler now as I returned to the cutting board. Soon I was finished prepping the meal and placing it into the oven. I was bent over and putting it down when I heard a quick gasp for air behind me and a very surprised "Oh!"

I spun around and half-shrieked, surprised to see Alex standing their completely dumbfounded and staring wide-eyed at his best friend's nearly naked mother.

Alex immediately began pleading "Crap! I'm sorry! I didn't think you'd be dressed like this!" He looked terrified, and at the same time did not seem to take his gaze away from my body, looking up and down, focusing on my chest. 

I had instinctively placed my arms over my chest, but hearing his voice didn't seem to phase me, rather I'd calmed down almost immediately and felt a sudden rush, a turn on in having him see me this way. "Young man," I began, "You do not simply walk into this house assuming anything."

Alex turned an even brighter shade of red, his head somehow sinking deeper into his shoulders. He looked as though he were going to begin apologizing all over again when I pre-empted him, "I don't want to hear an apology young man, I want to hear an explanation."

"I'm sorry," Alex began, "I didn't mean to walk in and see you like this, I just finished early at the gym and Matt texted me saying I should could come over whenever to start playing Halo, we're stuck on one level and we wanted to get through it tonight." 

I'd heard this before, it wasn't uncommon for Alex to come over before Matt had arrived, but the longer he stood there looking sheepishly at me wearing so little, the more I felt like I wanted to push things further. Uncrossing my arms from my chest and placing my hands on my hips, I pushed one hip out slightly to the right and said "Well I suppose it's not entirely your fault then", I paused mid-sentence, an idea creeping into my mind, "Just don't tell Matt you saw me like this, or he'll be mad at me." This was perfect; I knew he would never tell my son anyways, no one would tell their best friend they'd walked in on their mother wearing virtually nothing. Eyeing Alex up and down now, I saw he was wearing a loose pair of black basketball shorts with a dark blue t-shirt that nicely outlined his muscular torso.

Alex nodded his head eagerly, saying "Of course Ms. Smith, I won't say a thing" as he started to back out towards the kitchen door. Almost instinctively, before he could exit, I grabbed the small step-ladder next to the garbage and said "Well wait a second Alex, as long as you're here, would you mind helping me grab some of the glasses from the top shelf?"

I don't know what came over me, but I loved the feeling I was getting from being here in the kitchen like this; wearing nothing but my bra and thong with this young, virile stud so close, it was making it hard to focus on anything else. Alex stopped and slowly nodded his head again, trying to wrap his mind around the idea that I was asking for help while wearing so little. I placed the step-ladder in front of the tallest cabinet and stood on the second step, facing away from Alex now and giving him a perfect view of my butt and the thin bit of material between my cheeks. Opening the cabinet, I took two of the glasses in my hands and looked over my shoulder to see Alex, still near the doorway and looking unsure of himself. "Well, would you please take these from me and place them on the table?"

Alex snapped out of his trance and bounded over to me, almost tripping over his feet in the process, as he took the two glasses from me and placed them on the table. I took two more glasses out and repeated the process. As he placed the last two glasses on the table, I said, "Thank you Alex, now would you come over here and help me down?" The request itself was ridiculous; the step-ladder was a total of two steps, barely three feet above the ground, but that didn't stop Alex from quickly stepping in front of me and offering me his hand. Placing my seemingly tiny hand in his strong, muscular grasp made my legs feel all soft and jello-like, and once I was standing back on the ground I turned around to pick up the step-ladder, giving Alex one more view of my behind. "Thanks again for your help Alex. I'm going to go get dressed, if you want to get to your video game then go right on ahead, but remember, this is our little secret." 

And with that, I walked towards the doorway leading into the living room area, swaying my hips just a little more than I normally would have. As I walked up the stairs from the living room and reached master bedroom with a number of different thoughts racing through my mind; what had I done? Did Alex enjoy what he saw? Regardless, the entire scene replaying in my mind made me very excited to have him in the house, alone. 

My thoughts were interrupted midway as the phone rang next to me on the bedside table. Answering it, I heard Matt's voice was on the other end; "Hey mom, I'm at the mall with Vanessa and I'm going to be a little late coming home. I can't get a hold of Alex, if he comes over can you let him know I'll still be a couple of hours? He'll probably be in the living room playing Halo."

"Sure sweetie," I began, "no problem at all. Dinner will be ready when you get home. Alex is over now, but I think he'll be fine, I'll look after him." My mind was already playing out the events I had in store. 

"Thanks mom" replied Matt, and as I hung up the phone, I found myself walking towards the dresser and digging deep into one of the drawers with clothing I seldom used. I was literally pulling out almost all of the clothing in the drawer, looking for that one specific piece. With nearly the entire dresser contents thrown onto the floor I thought to myself, "Where is that...aha!" About a year ago, I had mentioned to my friend Emily that Donald and I had not had sex in months, and as a half-joke, yet half-serious, she'd gone out and bought me a naughty school-girl outfit, complete with a (very) short red-black plaid skirt, and a matching plaid tie. Unfortunately, not having sex with Donald was a mutual occurrence, and I hadn't really had much interest in trying to kick-start anything in the bedroom at the time, and on top of that, the skirt was just a little too tight on me to wear (not tight in the sexy way it was intended, but simply not looking good from my point of view). I now held the skirt in front of me, wicked ideas racing through my mind on how to spend the next couple of hours with Alex. 

I unhooked and removed my bra, electing to put on a new bright red bikini top that I'd recently bought for an upcoming trip to the Mexico with my girlfriends. I'd bought the top about three months ago, and yet now it seemed a little too small for me, covering the majority of my breasts but leaving plenty visible on the sides. I slipped off my black thong and replaced it with a matching bright red one. The skirt itself wrapped around my waist and latched on the side with three small hooks. Standing in front of the mirror, I knew I looked too old to be wearing these clothes, but the combination of things; the heat of the afternoon, the rush I'd felt in front of Alex earlier, and the confidence in my own body seemed to help push that all aside. "Well," I thought, "let's have some fun."

And with that, I made my way back to the stairs leading down to the living room. Alex was sitting on the three-person couch facing the TV which was up against the wall, and I could see and hear that he'd gotten into the video-game already, the sounds of automatic gunfire and alien noises all too familiar to me. I decided to play it cool as I reached the bottom step; I walked slowly beside him and sat on the arm rest immediately beside him. "How's it going Alex, are you winning?" I asked in a soft, relaxed voice while looking directly at the television. Alex's eyes went wide as he looked over and realized that I was next to him in little more than he had seen me in before. 

"Y-yeh," he stopped to swallow, "it's going pretty good Ms. Smith, thanks." His voice trailed off and he hadn't stopped looking at me. I resumed in my soft voice "That's great honey. Listen, Matt called and said he was a little behind and won't be home for another couple of hours, but I'd be glad to keep you company in the meantime, I'm going to get myself a drink, would you like one too?" and with that, I stood up and began walking slowly past him, towards the kitchen. I could feel Alex's gaze permanently stuck on me as I swayed my hips back and forth. As I was almost to the kitchen I heard his voice nearly crack, "U-umm, sure, a drink sounds nice."

The feeling in my chest was exhilarating, I felt so naughty and alive at the reaction I'd gotten from Alex! Moving quickly, I made two di Saronno and cokes (doubles, of course), the liqueur itself always tasted like candy to me, so Alex would have no problem drinking it on the odd chance he hadn't had much experience with alcohol. I returned to the living room with the drinks and said to Alex "I hope you don't mind me in this bikini top, it's just so hot out today and besides, you've already seen me in less after your surprise arrival.", I laughed lightly, and Alex seemed completely dumbfounded at the entire situation, as I stood straight in front of him and slowly bent forward, looking slightly to the right as I placed his drink on the coffee table. I made sure to linger for a moment longer than necessary to give Alex an extra long view of my cleavage. With my drink in hand, I sat opposite end on the couch and leaned back, crossing my left leg over my right, giving Alex a perfect view of my bare legs and upper thigh. 

Taking a small sip of my drink, I purred ever so lightly as the alcohol gently moved down my throat, instantly warming my centre and easing my mind down from the rush I was feeling, I said to Alex "Try your drink hun, and let me know if it's ok." Alex paused the game in front of him and reached for his drink. Taking what seemed like a large, nervous gulp, his eyes seem to respond well to the sweet and inviting flavor of the drink. "This -- this is really, really good, Ms. Smith. All I ever have with friends is beer, but this tastes like its candy."

I was glad to hear this, it seemed like Alex wasn't very experienced with alcohol, but receptive to my girly drink. A good thing too, considering that it was about twice as strong as I'd normally make it. 

"I'm glad you like it," I replied as I lightly began to bounce my top leg up and down. I could see Alex looking at my bare leg from the corner of my eye, "So, how's the game going?" Alex seemed to have forgotten entirely about the video game for the moment, but snapped back to reality, saying "It's alright, kind of hard without Matt here, but I'm managing ok."

"That's good hun," I began, "you boys definitely need to relax after graduating, and your starting college soon, so might as well enjoy it now while you can. Keep on going; I'll be fine watching you, but don't forget about your drink." This was true, the game itself didn't appeal to me; I never understood why some people got so charged up about them. Alex unpaused the game and continued playing, stopping at certain checkpoints or safe zones or whatever to take a swig of his drink. He was drinking it faster than I was, and within less than ten minutes, his glass was empty. I was only about halfway done myself, but I said "You made quick work of that drink! I'll have to make you another one." As I stood up, he paused the game again and stared at me as I again bent far forward, unnecessarily so to pick up his empty glass. He wasn't as subtle now in his glances, his eyes glued to my chest even as I rose back up. The liquor must have been working faster than I'd thought on his inexperienced body. I quickly made up his drink -- another double -- and returned to the living room. Alex was staring right at me again; the liquor was definitely lowering his inhibitions, or maybe he didn't even realize that he was staring so hard. Alex had adjusted his seating, rising his knees in an attempt to hide his growing erection, which would have been difficult at best to keep hidden in those loose basketball shorts. 

Handing Alex his drink, his looked me over up and down, none to subtle whatsoever, but I didn't mind, I loved it; here was an attractive young man whose attention I was one-hundred percent in possession of. Suddenly, Alex seemed to realize that he'd stared perhaps a little too long, and he dropped his eyes to the coffee table, taking another gulp from his drink. I wanted to take the teasing further now, so when I sat back down in my seat, I brought both my feet towards my panties, with my right leg up towards my chest, and my left leg down on the sofa. My short, tight skirt bunched up now, my bright red thong clearly visible, and I took a sip of my drink, pretending not to notice the stare Alex was once again giving me. I wanted to return to how we were a moment ago, so I asked, "So Alex, are you seeing anyone these days?" Alex took this as a hint to continue playing, taking another large drink and again unpaused the action, answering "A couple girls here and there, but nothing special right now." I wanted to see how comfortable he was with the conversation, at least with where I was taking it, so I probed a little further, "And these girls, are they good in bed?" 

To this, Alex almost dropped the game controller and coughed slightly as I clearly caught him off guard. He replied "Well, I guess so, not all of them really like that, I guess you could say I haven't really had a lot of experience." His answer was exactly what I was waiting for, so I continued on, "Oh no? That's too bad hun, do they at least give you good blow jobs?"

As I asked this, Alex was swallowing his drink, and again I thought he was going to lose it. He recovered himself, and said "Well to be honest, I've only been with a couple girls who wanted to try, but they only did it for a minute and it didn't feel like they really knew what they were doing." By now I was completely turned on by this little game I was having with Alex. "Well hun, I'm sure that'll change soon enough. You've grown into quite the sexy young man, you'll have no problem attracting the ladies soon enough. Not like me, past my prime, I probably couldn't turn any heads if I tried."


My Son's Best Friend Ch. 01



Alex turned his head towards me, staring at my body, the alcohol making him stare longer than he ever would were he sober. He spoke quickly, loudly, as if trying to counter an untrue point, "Ms. Smith, you're wrong on that, you're so hot right now." He seemed to realize that perhaps he had been to forward with his comments, which would have been true, had I not loved hearing it. I widened my eyes a little bit and pretended to look surprised, and then stood up straight with my hands on my hips and replying "Do you really think so, Alex?"

"Absolutely Ms. Smith, you're turning me on!" came the response, which he almost immediately seemed to regret as he blushed and further sunk deeper into his seat, his legs trying to hide his erection as best as possible, though he kept his eyes on me, moving between my legs and my chest. I slowly turned around and stopped with my back to him, then continued until I was facing him again. I ran my hands over my newly toned stomach and asked "Do you think I look ok like this? I've been working out to get my figure back but I don't think it's working." I was clearly lying, but was simply too curious to see how he would respond in his tipsy state. Alex simply nodded his head and continued staring, apparently lost in his own thoughts, unable to articulate himself through words at the moment. I moved my hands to the side of my skirt as I began to unfasten the first of the three hooks, "What do you think of my thighs and butt, though? Do you think they're too flabby like an old lady? I'm always afraid of how I look when I put on my swimsuit in the mornings" I said this as I finished undoing the last of the hooks, unwrapping the skirt from my body and tossing it lightly to the couch. Alex's eyes were completely focused on my bright red thong now, and my nicely toned bum as I slowly turned and modeled for him. "Alex, did you hear me?"

Alex snapped to attention from his stupor, his eyes moving up to meet mine. "You look...so good Ms. Smith." His eyes locked on mine, I felt a fire ignite within me that I'd not felt in ages. Without breaking eye contact, I slowly moved my hands to my back and untied the string of my bikini top, "Well Alex, what about my breasts, do you think I have nice breasts?" The bikini top loosened and fell to the floor, as I started to slowly walk towards him. Alex's eyes widened even further, and he quietly said "Good. I mean, they look really, really good, Ms. Smith."

Within only a few steps I was standing directly in front and overtop of Alex. His knees were still up and together to conceal his excitement. I slowly, ever so carefully lowered myself onto my knees, saying "Thank you Alex, that means a lot to me", as I placed my hands on his ankles and slowly pulled them forward and onto the floor on either side of me. A large tent in his shorts was obviously visible, and Alex was simply sitting there, completely lost in the events unfolding in front of him. I placed my hands on the inside of either side of his shorts and began to pull them down, to which Alex responded by lifting his butt to assist me. I pulled them down just enough so that his gorgeous seven-inch cock became free of the constraints of clothing. His cock was mesmerizing; there was nothing special about it, it looked about average for someone his age, but it was the fact that he was so excited and turned-on by me that really got me going. 

Taking the base of his shaft with my right hand, I began slowly stroking his cock up and down. Almost immediately Alex closed his eyes and threw his head back against the couch. As I moved my hand up and down the length of his cock, I said, "Alex I'm so flattered...did I make you this excited or were you thinking of another girl?"

Alex opened his eyes and looked at me, slowly coming back to reality, seemingly understanding that his best friend's mother was giving his cock more attention than any other girl ever had. "Ms. Smith, you made me this excited, you look so good."

A giant smile crept onto my face again. His shorts were somewhat in the way of my plans, so I said "Alex, stand up for a second." I moved out of the way and allowed Alex to stand, causing his shorts to now fall completely to the ground. Still on my knees, I positioned myself in front of him again and resumed the slow jerking motion from a moment before with my right hand, while my left hand squeezed my breast and pinched the nipple softly. 

"Ms. Smith, that feels really good." Alex said, his voice barely audible. 

"That's great hun, but I think it's time you got what those younger girls won't give you." And with that, I placed the head of his cock into my mouth and took as much of it in as I could at once, having about half slide in effortlessly. Alex's body tensed up as if he'd been shocked by lightning and I heard a muffled grunt come from him, "Ugghh", and his hands instinctively went to the sides of my head. I widened my eyes and looked up into his. This had the effect I'd hoped for and he seemed to lose himself in the ecstasy, his hips began moving in rhythm with my own motions. I hadn't had a man inside my mouth in what felt like ages, but not having a gag reflex made the feeling quickly enjoyable for me. 

Stopping for a moment and taking Alex's cock out of my mouth, I lifted his shaft with my hand and licked from the base to the tip, and down again, moving a little lower and lightly tonguing his balls, sending another jolt through his body. Alex said excitedly, "Ms. Smith, this is amazing; your mouth feels so good!" His enthusiasm and appreciation made me all the more excited myself, as I resumed jerking him off and placing one of his balls into my mouth, sucking on it lightly. My left hand wrapping around his muscular leg, gripping onto his tight butt as I continued to work his untouched manhood. Alex's hands were really getting into it now, as he moved them through my hair, roughly grapping clumps of it when I'd hit a really sensitive spot. I'd only been sucking on his balls for a little while when I felt him pull away ever so slightly and say "Oh gosh Ms. Smith, that's too much right there, I can't handle it." I understood what he meant, I remember having a boyfriend years ago that couldn't handle having their balls sucked, or sometimes even teased! I was about to put his young, hard cock back into my mouth, when the cordless phone rang on the coffee table next to us. From the side of my eye I could see that it was Matt calling from his cell phone. 

"That's Matt," I began, "we should probably answer that." Without missing a beat, my left hand continued stroking Alex even more vigorously than before as I answered the phone with my free hand.

"Hi honey, how's the shopping going?" Looking up at Alex, he looked stunned that he was still being jerked off as I spoke to my son on the phone. 

"Good mom, we finished early. Can you tell Alex I'll be home in about fifteen minutes?"

"No problem sweetie," I said as I cradled the phone between my neck and my shoulder, pulling Alex down slightly and positioning his cock between my breasts. Alex remained wide eyed as ever as I pushed my tits together and starred up at him, mouthing the words "Thrust, thrust." Alex looked confused for a moment, but quickly smiled and took the hint, slowly working up a nice rhythm, fucking his first ever pair of tits. I continued speaking into the phone, "Alex has been playing games since he arrived, but I needed his help for a bit in the kitchen with some heavy lifting, but I fixed him a drink and now he's back to relaxing on the couch." This wasn't completely a lie, but a wicked smile still came onto my face as Alex built up the pace, his cock felt wonderful between my breasts. 

"Ok, thanks mom. See you in a bit." As Matt said goodbye, I ended the call and let the phone drop from my shoulder to the ground to keep pressure on Alex's cock as he slid up and down my breasts. "Bad news hun," I started saying, "Matt will be home soon, so we'll have to finish up out fun." Alex looked somewhat disappointed for a moment as I released my breasts and left his cock standing on its own. "Don't worry though, we'll finish with a bang," I said as I took his hands and placed them on either side of my head, and placed my own firmly around his tight, muscular behind. Taking the tip of his cock into my mouth, I looked straight up as his awaiting eyes and said "fuck my mouth, hun" before closing my mouth around and lightly beginning to suck head of his shaft. 

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking somewhat concerned. My response was a simple nod, with a wink from one eye. 

Alex wasted no time now, no longer was he unsure of himself as his best friend's mother, almost completely naked and on her knees, was telling him to fuck her mouth fast and hard. I felt Alex's grip on the back of my head tighten and he thrust the entirety of his beautiful cock into my mouth, quickly hitting the back of my throat. The feeling in my mouth was exquisite, the pulsing of his shaft and youth, his tight butt gripped in my hands. As he fucked my mouth, I kept looking right into his eyes, pulling him deep into the back of my throat with each thrust. His movements were quickening, his cock becoming even harder than it was before, as his impending climax approached. Alex's breathing was becoming shorter, more intense, his groans becoming louder and more insistent, and his hands pulling my head hard towards him. I could feel him almost reach his orgasm. 

Thrusting at full speed now into my mouth, Alex cried out, "Ugghh, Ms. Smith...fuck...I'm going to cum...I'm going to cum...", and his hips moved frantically, trying to hold off as long as possible, not possible considering how long he'd been waiting for a girl to suck him off. The next moment, I felt Alex's butt tighten up in my hands as he yelled out, "I'm cumming...shit, I'm cumming!" I quickly took his cock out of my mouth and into my hands, pumping his pulsing shaft furiously as I purred "Yes baby cum all over my face and tits, I want it everywhere." 

Hearing this pushed Alex far beyond the edge of return, seeing me pumping his cock as hard and as fast as I could was simply sensory overload. Suddenly, his cock erupted with the first explosion of cum landing on my forehead and crossing down the centre of my face to my chin on the other side. The second and third bursts of cum went straight to my neck and chest. I couldn't believe how much cum he had awaiting release, but then again, if this was the first real blowjob he'd had and no girlfriend in a while, he'd likely have been forced to save up for quite a while now. I continued pumping his still hard cock as a few more streams of cum shot out, covering both of my tits. 

His cock, still hard but completely spent, felt wonderful on my hands as I slowed the pace down. Looking up at Alex, his face seemed completely relaxed again. I continued with my slow pace, moving one hand to my face and collecting the still warm cum down from my chin up to my forehead. I rubbed it onto my breasts where the rest of his cum was sitting. 

"Well," I started to say, "I guess now you can't say you've never gotten a real blowjob before. It's too bad we're out of time and Matt is on his way home, I think you'll have to repay the favor later tonight if we find a chance." Alex stood there and simply nodded his head up and down, not yet coming down from this high he was on. 

Standing up, I immediately turned and bent over to pick up my top and skirt, again having Alex look at me in nothing but my panties. With both things collected and in my hand, I slowly walked back towards the stairs with my hips swaying back and forth. "You should pull your shorts back up before Matt gets home. And don't forget, this is our little secret", I said over my shoulder to Alex, who was still standing with his cock out, snapping back to reality as he stared at my ascending the staircase. 

Returning to my room and dropping the clothing on the floor, I peeled off my thong, lying on the bed to stroke my clit. I'd become so wet during the encounter, it was really too bad that Matt was coming home early; I would have loved to have felt Alex's tongue all over me. Thinking of what could have been quickly brought me to climax. 

Matt soon came home and I could hear them from upstairs; "Man you're playing like garbage right now, focus on the aliens!"

"Sorry," Alex would reply, "I'm not really on my game today."

I stifled a laugh when I heard this. That was my first, but certainly not last, time with Alex.



My Son's Best Friend Ch. 02



I hugged him closely, relishing the moment, pushing the rest of the world away as long as possible.

But we had to come back to it, and I knew it. So I sat up and pulled my turtleneck on. Extricated my legs from his seat and flipped into the driver's seat; put my jeans on while he pulled his corduroys up.

He sat, quiet and passive, just looking at me. I stared back, thinking I ought to say something. But I didn't know what.

So I started the engine and offered, "I'll take you home."

I shifted into gear, rolled down the long gravel driveway, turned right onto the road; followed it to the highway and turned left.

Halfway up the highway, I murmured, "Please don't tell Paul."

Jonah was silent, as usual. I had never cared before. But now I wished he would say something. Something that would reassure me about what we had just done. But I could only guess at what he was thinking, and I had no right to look to him for absolution. I was the one who had made the offer: I was the mature one.

He closed the truck door carefully and walked up to his house with his shoulders hunched and his head down.

I drove home with a growing sense of unease. My rational mind was suddenly troubled. Where had it been an hour ago?

Tied and gagged and thrown in the basement by my libido! Oh God, what had I done?

I went home and took a long bath.

* * * *

I avoided Paul for the next couple days, started planning and planting my garden, and hoped Jonah didn't hate me too much - or worse, think he loved me.

But when my head sank into the cool softness of my pillow and my eyes closed at night, I could feel his hands on my skin and hear his whimpers in my ear, and suddenly my body was wanting...watering.

In the privacy of my own bedroom, I remembered the feel of him again, his sweet tenderness, as my fingertips meandered over my breasts, down my belly, and slid into the fleshy folds, finding them already wet and swollen.

In that moment, I was glad I had done it - glad I had tasted and smelled and felt him - glad for the keen memories as they came back to me, teasing and arousing.

I rubbed myself slowly as I pictured his red cock springing out of his shorts. I got faster as I thought of the sweet noises he made. I pressed harder and deeper, remembering how he felt sliding into me, squeezing my waist, touching my nipples.

"Jonah," I whispered, arching my pelvis up and out. "Jonah..."

"Jonah..." I said, pressing toward him, thrusting to meet him.

"Jonah!" I cried, as the mounting waves reached their peak and crashed over me: panting, moaning, whining, sighing, releasing, coming...

"Jonah! Jonah! Jonah!...Oh God, Jonah!"

Then I lay still, and my breathing calmed, and my hand caressed my breast, resting on my heart.

"Jonah," I repeated softly, as a tear leaked out of the corner of my eye and seeped into the pillow. I wanted to kiss that tender skin of his, and taste his thick red lips again.

But in the morning, reason was back, and I was sure that I had to quit thinking about Jonah and plant carrots today.

* * * *

It had been a week, and my days and nights were sorting themselves out. In the quiet, cloistered darkness, I dared to welcome Jonah into my boudoir - but only because I meticulously banished him from my daylight hours.

It was working pretty well.

Then Jonah came over to see Paul. I managed a nonchalant greeting as they came through the kitchen on their way to the living-room to watch TV. They sprawled on the couch, and after a few minutes, Paul came into the kitchen for a couple beers. I watched him take them back and hand one to Jonah.

Their backs were toward me, so I could peek through the doorway unobserved. I eased my heart out of my throat, thinking how appealing Jonah was in his own awkward, shy kind of way.

I turned back to the sink to finish the dishes, blocking out the sound of the TV with the radio. Then I thought about what to fix for dinner. 

I was intent over the pot of soup on the stove, when I suddenly felt a pair of eyes watching me. I turned around to see him leaning against the wall by the doorway, just staring. His eyes were soft, and a little sad.

I gazed back, then averted my eyes.

"Jonah, I'm really sorry...if I've...hurt you," I said quietly.

"...which is why we should just forget about what happened..." I added quickly, before Paul decided to come see what Jonah was up to.

Jonah raised his empty beer bottle toward me, and I took it. Then he turned back to the living-room without a word.

I left the soup for the two of them to help themselves, and went outside to take a walk. The fresh air felt good, and the sun was just setting with one of those amazing fiery red explosions that only happen in the clear desert skies. It was so beautiful. I wanted to cry.

Jonah was gone by the time I came back. When I went to bed that night, I didn't think of the way he had felt the day we made love. I just thought about how his face had looked in my kitchen.

I squeezed my eyes shut, and my voice was small and raspy, "Please help him not to hate me. Help him find someone to love..."

* * * *

Another week passed before he came to visit again. I was working in my garden, and smiled amiably when he and Paul passed by on their way to the house. I could afford to be friendly as long as we maintained a comfortable distance.

I had plenty to do in my garden, and worked for two solid hours digging, watering, thinning, arranging borders. I was sitting on the marble bench admiring my handiwork, when quiet footsteps broke into my reverie. I looked up to see him towering over me.

His eyes were still sad. He sat down next to me, and we sat in silence for a few minutes.

"Paul will be wondering where you are," I suggested.

"I told him I wanted to talk to you."

"What? Why did you tell him that? Why would you tell him that?"

"Because it's true."

More silence.

"So, you wanted to talk to me?" I looked at him, waiting.

Abruptly, he leaned over and kissed me.

"Jonah, please..." I moved away.

"Why don't you like me anymore? What did I do wrong?"

"Oh, Jonah," I winced. "You didn't do anything wrong. I like you. I did something wrong. I'm really sorry. It was selfish of me. I shouldn't have brought you here."

"Why?"

"For a whole lot of reasons. I just never should have given in to my...hormones like that. I just got carried away. And the way you're feeling proves it. I never should have done it. I've just made you unhappy..."

He thought for a moment. Then he looked me in the eye.

"What you did that day made me happy. It's what you're doing now that hurts..."

"Jonah, I'm sorry. It was just really irresponsible of me. What we did - there's nothing wrong with it - but we live in a world where other people don't see it that way. If anyone finds out about it, it could be very uncomfortable - and it would be all my fault. I don't want to get you in trouble, and I don't want to be there myself...What do you think Paul would say if he knew - or your mother?"

He just stared at me. The look in his eyes was unconvinced.

After a while, he said, "I think about you every night."

I closed my eyes and sighed.

"I think about you too, Jonah. But it's wrong. We can't do this. There's no place for it in this little town. Everybody knows everybody else's business here. You know that...

"I wasn't thinking when I did it. It was a moment in a bubble - it was wonderful. But it has to stay there - in the past. There's no other place for it. There's no future."

I continued, "You're young. You should find a nice girl to date. You're very sweet. Take what happened with me and use it to make some nice girl happy. You're wonderful. Any girl would be lucky to have you."

Again, he looked unconvinced. But I told myself he would thank me someday for all this wisdom.

"Maybe you better get back to Paul," I suggested. "What will you tell him?" I asked cautiously.

He was sulky. "Nothing."

Then he left.

Later, when he had gone home, I was casual as I threw out an offhand remark to Paul. "Jonah came out to ask me about my garden today. Can you imagine that? He's thinking about planting one," I laughed.

Paul was indifferent.

* * * *

I quit touching myself at night, though I thought about Jonah more than ever. I wanted him to be happy. I wanted him to find some girl to be with. Then I could feel like a mentor, instead of some desperate older woman.

One night, I pictured him with a sweet sexy little thing from the college in town, and the thought was very arousing. I imagined his confidence as he reached into her blouse to fondle her breasts, peeled off her clothes, caressed the well between her legs and eased himself into it.

I felt like the girl: vulnerable, nubile, undone. And I could feel him inside me, moving, thrusting, sweating, clutching as he drew me into those agonizing, tempestuous sensations.

"Jonah, Jonah, Jonah..." echoed through me again, engulfing me in his overwhelming power.

I felt immersed in his true essence, and it felt like love. I regretted all the artificial trappings of our daylight life. If only the world was more like the night, where the lines blurred in the darkness and dreams were close, and hearts open.

I spent night after night thinking of Jonah this way. It made me happy to send the love sparks out to him that erupted in fountains from the deep places in my belly. I wished the best for him. I felt grateful for his existence, and for our brief meeting together.

What had happened began to feel right again - because it had brought me to this feeling of love for him.

* * * *

He came to visit Paul again, and I felt more at ease. I didn't try to avoid him.

I even sat down to a card game with him and Paul. I was surprised that they both welcomed my company. I had always left them alone before, assuming they wouldn't want me around. But even Paul didn't seem to mind my presence.

I was complaining that all the recent gardening had settled in my shoulders, making them ache, when Paul responded that Jonah was great at massage.

"Is he?" I looked at Jonah.

He got up and came around behind my chair. He placed his hands on my shoulders, applying just the right amount of pressure. As he kneaded them, I could feel the sweetness emanating from his hands, and it brought tears to my eyes. 

I suddenly felt how self-righteous I had been: concerned more with what everyone else thought than with what he thought. I hadn't even asked what he thought - just set myself up as the expert. I didn't know what I was doing any more than he did. 

I was just a lonely divorcee walking around with a broken heart and an empty dance card. I knew all the eligible men in this town, and none of them was remotely attractive to me. I suddenly felt very sad and sorry for myself.

I thanked him for the massage and excused myself to go to my room, where I could cry myself to sleep in peace. But before I drifted off, I forgave myself - for being lonely, and needy, and stupid; for being shortsighted and irresponsible and single; and brokenhearted, and weak and human. I forgave my hormones, and my libido - and my heart.

* * * *

The next time I saw Jonah, Paul wasn't around. He showed up on a day when I was just vegging on the couch. Paul had finally gotten his license back, and had taken the car to work.

I was surprised to meet him at the door, but happy to see him. I told him Paul was at work, and he said he knew. I invited him in and asked if he wanted to watch the movie I'd rented.

"Sure."

I lounged on the couch, and he took a chair. The movie was a sappy love story, but when I apologized for it, he assured me he didn't mind.

The story began, the plot progressed, the main character pursued the unsuspecting love of his life, and the two came suddenly face to face. 

Then, as the dark-eyed, dark-haired male lead moved his manicured hands sensually over the female lead's bronze hips and belly, I flashed back to that afternoon in my truck, and I felt suddenly aware of my breasts. They were tingling just like they had that day, when I had known he was looking at them.

I looked at him, and he rose from his chair and slid beside me on the couch. All at once, his hands were pulling me to him and his mouth was on mine, and I melted into them; kissing him back, sucking his lips, gliding over his teeth with my tongue, clutching his neck and hair in my hands.

I moaned with pleasure, the tension of the past weeks washing out of me. Ah, he felt so good: his hands on my skin, his mouth kissing me, his torso pressing me, his cock moving insistently against my leg. 

I had been so focused on wanting him - I hadn't realized how much he wanted me! Now I could feel his desire for me, and it was powerful; and I was letting it in. I didn't need to take anything from him, because he was here, giving it all to me.

My breasts felt full and sensuous, and I took his hand and placed it over them, opening the buttons of my shirt. He moved his head down, suckling, and I took his other hand and put it between my legs. Then I reached over, unfastening his jeans and rubbing his cock.

He groaned, making hunger noises, sucking down the skin of my belly and undoing my pants, pushing them down and grasping my hips.

I pulled them off, spreading my legs wide. He sucked the skin of my groin and thighs, moving inside to the labia and finding my clit, sucking the opening and thrusting his tongue into it.

He grasped my nipples, rolling them between his thumb and finger. Electricity was running through his fingers, and his mouth was like a huge vortex, drawing me deeper and deeper into the whirling tide. I panted, making hums and sighs and trills of pleasure.

Then he moved up onto me, his ravenous mouth devouring mine as he pushed his cock inside, sliding deeper and deeper, strumming the sweet spot. His cock was like a living flame: I could feel the power coming through it as he channeled all the fragrance of his being through me, and touched the broken place, pouring his balm there.

He pushed and thrusted, deeper and deeper, to a place further inside me than I had ever gone, and I called his name; sang his name; shouted and cried and howled his name, as if it was a magic spell, an incantation - a mystical magical creator of worlds: Jonah! Jonah! Jonah!

I kept saying it over and over, until I was crying and sobbing it out loud: Jonah . . . Jonah . . . Jonah . . .

Within that name seemed to be every disappointment, and hurt, and hope I'd ever felt. Saying it did something to me: peeled me open as if I had never been naked before. And I couldn't believe all the love I felt streaming into me.

I began to smile then, and laugh, and he laughed with me, as if I'd just told the funniest joke in the world - though I couldn't even say what I was laughing about. The last song was playing while the credits rolled. So he took my hand and pulled me to the floor, and we danced naked in circles to the final happy song.

Then I got him a beer, and myself a glass of orange juice, and we grinned at one another sitting cross-legged on the floor.

He looked into my eyes.

"You're not worried about the neighbors?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"You're beautiful."

"So are you."

He smiled and kissed me, licking the orange juice on my lips while I sucked the beer on his.



My Son's Best Friend Ch. 02



Thanks to everyone who left comments for chapter one regarding my first attempt at writing. It's best if you read the preceding chapter to understand what had transpired earlier between myself and my son's best friend, Alex. 

-----------------------------------------

Stepping out of the shower and grabbing a short towel for my hair, I began to review in my mind the events leading up to today; my recent divorce from Donald, getting back into my workout routine and finally reaching the look I'd been craving, having Alex walk in on me in only my bra and panties earlier today, followed by the drinks we shared before I gave him his first blowjob ever. He and my son, Matt, were in the living room at the moment, still focused on their Xstation of Playbox or whatever it was they called it, shooting up aliens and having a few beers in a well deserved break before starting college. Matt had come home earlier than expected, a few minutes before Alex shot his load all over my breasts, so we had to stop there, leaving me wet and begging for sweet release. I took care of myself briefly and had then jumped into the shower to clean up.

As I stood, drying my hair, his manhood was all I could think about; seven inches long, nothing spectacular, but it had been rock hard because of my body, because of what I had done to him. My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of my cell ringing on the computer desk in the corner of the bedroom. Stepping into the conjoined master bedroom and draping the towel over the large office style swivel chair, I knew it was my friend Chrystal calling by the ringtone I'd given her caller ID. Picking up the phone I answered, "Hey Chrystal, how's it going?"

Chrystal's energetic voice responded on the other end, "Great Jen, Tom took the kids camping this weekend and I've been using the time to tidy up around here and relax. If you're not busy later, why not come by for a glass of wine?" 

The offer actually seemed like a good plan to get out of the house for a bit. What could I possibly do with Alex if Matt was here as well? I replied, "Sure thing, I'm going to dish up some dinner for Matt and his friend and I'll be by in about an hour." I finished drying off and quickly did my hair into a sport ponytail, the same kind I would put it into for Yoga, and changed into a simple, light blue summer dress with spaghetti straps to hold it up. The hem of the dress was about three inches above the knee, and a v-neck that would show off my cleavage. The dress was made so that I didn't have to wear a bra, and still feeling quite turned on from before I decided against any panties. I put the whole thing together with matching blue sandals with a slight three-inch heel. 

Throwing my cell phone into my purse, I briskly walked down the stairs towards the living room. It had been just over an hour since my exciting encounter with Alex, and his head immediately turned in my direction, his jaw dropping slightly as the sight of me in the dress. Matt kept on playing his game as I came down. I locked eyes seductively with Alex as I kept walking towards the kitchen, saying, "Boys, I'm going to take dinner out the oven, help yourselves when you get hungry. I'm going over to Chrystal's for a bit."

Matt responded by saying "Thanks for dinner mom, we're probably going to stick around here and play for the rest of the evening."

"That sounds like a fun night," I replied, stepping back into the living room, "but you know what would make it even better? Help yourselves to the beer and liquor in the fridge and pantry. You've both worked so hard this semester and the breaks almost over; you've earned it."

Hearing this, Matt immediately looked up at my approval to drink all my booze, "Are you sure about that mom?"

"Sure," I casually shrugged my shoulders, "just make sure you don't go too wild with the drinks! I'll be back in a couple of hours." With that, Matt quickly went to the fridge and returned with two cold beers, twisting the tops off and handing one to Alex, who in the meantime had kept his eyes on me and let a smile creep upon his face. Smiling coyly to him and to myself, I walked towards the front door down the hall from the living room. Knowing he was still peering at me over his shoulder while Matt sipped on his beer and returned his focus to the game. I turned to face Alex, gave him a sexy wink of the eye, and left out the front door. 

Chrystal lived a short drive away (as despite living in the provincial capital city, it was relatively small, so even if one were to drive from the south to the north end of town you'd only be looking at a 30 minute transit in light traffic) in the neighborhood of Terwilliger. Pulling into her driveway and parking the car, I saw Chrystal emerge from the front door with a wine glass in one hand, and an enthusiastic waving of the other. There weren't many opportunities for her to have the home to herself, so it was safe to assume she'd gotten into the wine long before calling me. 

As I stepped out of my car, Chrystal stopped in her tracks, her gaze widening a bit, her chin dropping down and slightly to the left, "My lovely friend, I do believe that right now is the sexiest I've ever seen you dressed!" she said, waving her arm in a wide gesture and almost spilling her drink. 

Not only was I feeling great from my fun with Alex earlier this afternoon, but also from the results I'd seen in my intense workout regime I'd implemented after becoming single again. I paused as I walked towards her and performed a little twirl and pose, holding my arms out and pushing my hips to the left, accentuating my newly reduced curves as I said "Why thank you! It's funny you should mention it, because today I was thinking that I'd really hit the mark with the yoga and swimming routine I'd set up."

Chrystal smiled and nodded, "Absolutely, you look like you've got the body of a college girl again! Congrats Jenny!" taking me by the arm and into her home. We quickly sat down in her living room with a bottle of chardonnay, with relaxing jazz playing in the background. Normally we would get together every couple of weeks for drinks at my place or at a restaurant, but when her family was out of town, she loved entertaining company, even it was only me. I'd been particularly busy at work for the last two weeks or so, meaning that this was the first chance we had to really catch up. I'd known Chrystal for years now, our kids met in swimming lessons when they were tiny little things. Although they weren't friends themselves, Chrystal quickly became a close companion who helped me throughout my deteriorating marriage and right through the divorce. She always provided me with support, even over-supporting at time with her aggressive "Sue the bastard for every penny he has!" comments, despite my assurances that when we divorced, it was quite amicable. 

As the first glasses were emptied, followed quickly by the second and third, the conversation flowed about anything and everything; our work life, other friends, movies we'd recently seen, and my newfound exercise routine. I explained how happy I was with my body as of late. Taking a long sip from her glass and staring at me for a moment, Chrystal said "It's been a while now since you've been separated, and I know you weren't seeing much action in the bedroom with Donald before that. Have you given any thought to dating again?" 

After a couple of drinks, my facial expressions tend to answer questions well before my brain and mouth can catch up, as my eyes looked straight ahead, my gaze lowering. Despite experiencing what I would consider my sexual reawakening earlier today, the nature of her question caught me completely off guard, or more that one particular word and its associated connotations; dating.

"No," I soon answered, "No, I don't think I'm ready for anything like that." Chrystal, sensing the tenseness of my reply and the rigidity of my face in responding, quickly spoke up, "Oh Jenny there's no need to get all serious now. I'm not saying go out and meet some guy to marry," she paused to put her drink down on the side table next to the couch, clasping her hands together over her knee, "what I meant to say, my dear, is that I recall hearing for literally over a year that you'd not had a single night of wild, passionate sex. Now that you're a, forgive the language, hot little piece of ass, so to speak, I simply thought you'd have considered finding yourself a pretty little plaything to keep up with that workout routine of yours."

I felt silly getting so serious over what she'd first said, and quickly realized exactly what she meant even before explaining it to me. Of course, as she spoke, I found it increasingly difficult to maintain a serious look on my face, my mouth forming into a grin that was soon a full on beaming smile. Chrystal had always been one to read body-language, and I would have been a prime example for her to use were she ever to explain the art of reading someone without the necessity of verbal ques. With at first a quizzical expression on her face, followed quickly by one of sudden insight, she slowly said, "but of course, I think I'm too late in offering this advice, you've already beaten me to the punch, haven't you?"

With the impossible to remove smile on my face, and looking shortly left of her prying gaze, I responded, happy and full of memories, "Hmmmm, perhaps." 

Chystal shouted out excitedly, "You little tramp! I don't see you for a couple of weeks and you're out seducing some hunk!" We both broke out into laughter, with Chrystal quickly regaining her composure to follow up with the question I'd been expecting but wasn't quite sure if I would be able to answer honestly, "Who's the lucky guy then? I didn't even know you'd met anyone recently."

Chrystal has been my friend for years now through thick and thin. Despite my actions being, not necessarily taboo, but perhaps more along the lines of socially deviant because of the difference in age between Alex and myself, I certainly felt like it would be a leap of faith to explain the events of today to anyone else. Yet I trusted in Chrystal more than I would in most people, and so I took a deep breath, and began with the lovely view I'd had today at the pool, seeing a hunky, muscular man bent over while tying his shoes at the rec centre. "I love built men in tight shorts!" exclaimed Chrystal, getting excited herself as I described the young man's body. I then said "Me too, but I was surprised when he stood and turned towards me, because it was Alex, my son's best friend."

I said nothing after this; I could see the gears turning in Chrystal's head. It took no more than a moment for her to figure it out, her eyes widening, saying "Shut up! Are you telling me you fooled around with your son's friend at the rec centre?" 

"No, that's where I saw him after my swim. It was later in the afternoon, he'd walked in on me nearly naked, that I felt this rush of sexual excitement, the kind I hadn't felt since before I married Donald!" I said, and I proceeded to detail the events that followed; Alex's embarrassment, my giving him a drink while teasing him on the couch in my short skirt and bikini top, and giving him his first real blowjob. I sat back and awaited her response. Chrystal sat there for a moment, not saying anything at all, allowing for my story to sink in. A moment later she said "That...that's really fantastic!" I breathed a heavy sigh of relief, happy to hear any response that didn't go along the lines of "You're bat-shit loco, Jenny."

I asked "Do you really think so?" to which she cheerily replied "Absolutely, but then again, I'm probably a little biased myself. I myself have always wondered what it would be like to be with a young, strong, eager man. Don't get me wrong, I couldn't imagine ever cheating on Tom, but still, the notion has been a fantasy of mine for years; the idea of being with a man pulsing with such raw, sexual potency, such eagerness to please and to learn, to teach him everything about pleasing a woman; it's all quite wonderful to think about."

I hadn't thought explicitly about it before, the complete lack of sexual experience that Alex had. Nothing that had happened was planned, at least at first. "Like I said, it was only this morning that these thoughts crept into my mind, and this afternoon, well I don't know what came over me. I'm going to be perfectly honest with you, Chrystal; the idea of ravaging Alex, to teach him how to please a woman, is probably the most exciting part, asides from the feeling I get from seeing the look of desire in his eyes. Do you know how long it's been since I felt like any guy had eyed me up, thinking of me purely as a sexual object? I sure don't!"

"That sounds great," began Chrystal, "the idea of going down on a young cock, to be the one making him go wild with anticipation and lust. Is he staying here next year while Matt goes to college?"

"No," I replied, "They're both going off to college in a couple of weeks, although not to the same one."

"That's perfect then!" Chrystal said, "You've got a great chance here to teach him how to treat a woman, and also satisfy your own newfound urges, before he leaves for good."

I thought about this for a second before replying "You're right. I mean I couldn't very well have started something naughty with him and expected it to last the long term. It really wouldn't be fair to him either, he should be with a girl his age, not one old enough to his mother."

"Exactly", Chrystal said, as though we'd both reached the same conclusion, "this is the perfect opportunity for a little fun and learning on both your parts before he goes off and moves onto the next phase of his grown up life."

Hearing Chrystal put it that way, to rationalize what I'd until now considered borderline inappropriate, calmed me very much. 

As Chrystal and I continued chatting, I found my mind wandering more and more to the naughty things I'd love to do to him, to show him, to teach him. Soon enough, we had gone through nearly three bottles of chardonnay, and although it wasn't late by any means, the large grandfather clock in the hall having only a moment ago chimed a half past eight, I found it increasingly difficult to focus on our talk at hand, the image of Alex's manhood ever present in my mind. Chrystal noted it as well, "It seems like you're off in your own little world now, my dear. I'm going to call you a cab to take you home so that you can get some rest." As she stood and made for the kitchen phone, I realized I'd not mentioned to her that Alex was still over at my house right now, having drinks and playing his games with Matt. I could hear Chrystal speaking over the phone, asking for a cab to come on by and get me, followed by her returning to the living room and handing me her spare set of house keys, "Here," she began, "these are for you to stop in if you need anything tomorrow, I'm not sure I'll be home until about noon from my workout, the ladies at my gym and I tend to stop for coffee after our class."

We continued chatting for a few more minutes when we heard the horn of the taxi outside. We said our goodnights, and as I walked towards the cab, Chrystal shouted from behind me, "Good luck with your little project, let me know about his progress!", breaking into a tipsy laugh as I turned and waved to her before getting into my awaiting ride. Though the ride home was short, my thoughts were entirely of Alex, and everything I wanted to teach him that night. Paying the cabbie and stepping out of the vehicle, I looked upon my home; I love this time of day, the sun is in mid-sky, illuminating everything with a beautiful orange-hue. Walking inside, I can see the lovely colors of the impending sunset reaching into the house through the windows. 

As I enter the living room, I see Alex and Matt in their same spots as when I left, albeit now with quite the collection of empty beer bottles and high-ball glasses on the coffee table in front of them. Matt's head was slanted off to the side and against a pillow, clearly asleep from drinking too many of my beers, whereas Alex turned his head to face me, clearly having had only a few in order to remain more awake than his friend. 

"Hey Ms. Smith." He said as he eyed me up and down, with the familiarity of how he'd stared earlier in his loss of subtlety after a few drinks. 

"Hello Alex," I replied, "How was dinner and the drinks?"

"Dinner was really great, although Matt didn't bother having any; I think he was really excited that his mom was letting him drink her booze. He only had five or six drinks, but he's looking pretty out of it." The folly of youth, I recalled how inexperienced I was with liquor, owing my worst hangovers and forgetful nights to a complete lack of any food before going out with my girlfriends when I was their age. Alex had been a little wiser, having eaten before hand. 

The light in the living room was truly something too beautiful to describe, but this was how I always felt when the sun was in the middle of setting for the evening, and the immense heat I felt earlier in the day was gone, in its place only a perfect warmth as the evening came to replace the day. As Alex faced me, the light of the sun hit him in such a way that it truly highlighted his facial features; his strong jaw, his high cheekbones, and the glint in his eyes as they stared into me, the alcohol removing all his inhibitions. As he sat there, staring at my body, I felt that familiar excitement from earlier in the day. I took quick account of Matt on the couch and asked Alex, "Has he been asleep for long?"

Alex, without taking his eyes off of me, replied "Yeh, he always overdoes it and ends up sleeping the entire night away."

At hearing this, I walked past the couch and towards the kitchen, gesturing silently for Alex to follow me. He stood quickly, almost tripping over himself in his haste and alcohol induced stupor, but regaining himself at the last moment. Entering the kitchen I continued to make my way to the patio door leading to the backyard, dropping my purse on the counter as I passed. Alex followed closely behind but stopped as I opened the door leading outside, seeming unsure of the situation. 

Reaching out and taking his hand into mine, still silent and locking my eyes with his, I led him onto the patio. The backyard was really something else, my personal project these last few years as the distance between Donald and I grew to heights I'd not expected. The pool had been re-tiled, the high hedges and fences installed for added privacy whenever the situation warranted it. Ironically enough, my efforts to this end would never be enjoyed by Donald and I, but were actually motivated by our drifting worlds. I turned to face Alex now, taking his hand in both of mine, again looking into his eyes and saying "I had a lot of fun this afternoon, did you?" to which he enthusiastically nodded his head up and down, smiling, likely wanting to stay quiet for fear of a neighbor hearing him. "Good," I began, "because I think it's time I showed you exactly what it feels like to be with a woman."

At this point we'd reached the long sun-lounger by the side of the pool, the sun was setting quickly now, likely providing us with its warming orange rays for only a short time longer. Alex looked around nervously towards the hedges and the fence, "Out here? Won't someone see us?" he said in his low voice.

"Don't worry, no one can see us from the other houses," I replied, "you just sit back here, relax and let me show you everything you wanted to feel earlier today." as I knelt in front of him, looking up into his eyes for the second time that day. My gaze lowered to the growing bulge in his shorts as I gently tugged down on either side to see them drop to the ground, his semi-hard seven inch cock sitting now in front of my face. Reaching my hands around to grasp his firm, tight butt, I opened my mouth and took the entire shaft in, causing Alex to moan with pleasure as I began a smooth, steady tempo to get his cock as rock-hard as it had been earlier this afternoon. Alex's hands instinctively went to the back of my head, gripping it tightly and working with the rhythm we'd built together. I could feel his manhood growing in my mouth as I sucked him off, and in no time at all I was satisfied that it was at its full length. I let go of Alex, standing back up and taking his cock into my right hand, softly stocking it back and forth towards me, lifting his t-shirt with my left him. He quickly got he idea and helped in taking his shirt off, leaving him completely naked, while I was still fully dressed in my summer dress and heels. 




My Son's Best Friend Ch. 02



"Sit down" I whispered softly; he immediately complied, sitting in the lounger, his legs straight ahead, his back supported at a forty-five degree angle. Standing in front of him, I reached behind and pulled the elastic out that was holding my hair in its ponytail; shaking my head and running my hand through my hair to give it some volume. Lifting the hem of my dress up to my upper thigh and throwing my leg over the lounger, Alex's eyes widened as the realization hit him as to what I was about to transpire between us, he was about to lose his virginity. His eyes immediately went to my already-wet cunt as I held him by the base of his shaft, slowly lowering myself down until the tip of his cock was parting my lips, lubricating it and preparing for the sensation he'd never felt, that which I'd personally gone too long without. With no great rush, I began lowering myself, inch by inch, until he was completely inside of me, the expression on his face that of pure bliss as he experienced being inside a woman for the first time, his expression mirroring how I felt, being the object of his ultimate desire, in complete control of the events that lead to this moment. 

I paused here for a moment and placed my hands on his well-defined pectorals, allowing him to adjust to the sensation, before slowly rising up, up, up to the tip of his cock before once more coming all the way down and slowly, methodically grinding my aching clit against him. I began repeating his motion, delicately but establishing a rhythm by which Alex could accustom himself too. Alex at this point was clearly still overwhelmed by the events that lead him here, his hands rigid at his side. "You know, you don't have to keep your hands like that, I'd say its safe to touch me, I am riding your cock, you know."

Alex looked up at me, his mouth, which until now had been parted slightly in surprise, closed as his lips curled into a smile, the reality of the situation hitting home. He carefully placed his hands upon the outside of my lower legs, just above the knees, afraid as though I may break to his touch. He began sliding his hands up, eventually reaching my hips and waist as I continued my steady riding of his shaft. Becoming more and more comfortable with the situation, his hands griped and became strong at my waist, and I moaned in approval as he began to pull me down after I would rise on his cock, quickly becoming an active participant in our intimate dance, no longer merely acted upon. Soon we were both moving in a natural rhythm, taking him completely inside of me, him pushing up to meet me with each thrust, grinding against my clit and sending shivers through my body. 

Alex reached his hands up, moving aside each of the spaghetti straps holding the upper portion of my dress up, pulling them down and allowing me breasts to be free of their confines. His hands slid down from my shoulders, running along my arms, rubbing softly the back of my arms up and down, matching the tempo below. His hands slid across my arms, cupping my breasts and cautiously gliding my excited nipples through his fingers. As he softly squeezed my breasts in his hands, I closed my eyes and let my head fall forward, just enough so that I was facing straight down at his toned abdomen, maintaining the rhythm with his thrusts and letting out soft moans with each movement. His hands felt exquisite, my nipples on fire as he teased them. Alex hadn't had much practical experience with women before, but he had the right attitude; delicate and initially cautious yet sensual and incredibly attuned to his partners feelings.

Our coordination was interrupted suddenly, however, as Alex sat straight up, moving one arm to circle around my waist to draw me in near, his other sliding softly around my neck, he pulled in close and I wrapped my arms around his neck, tilting my head ever so slightly. I closed my eyes and let my mouth go to meet his, but felt nothing for a moment, realizing he had stopped just shy of placing his lips onto mine, breathing me in, savoring the feeling. This intense stillness lasted only a few moments, until Alex simultaneously pulled me once more with both arms, by the waist so as to grind me down into him, and by the neck into what I still consider today to be the deepest, most passionate kiss I'd ever been fortunate enough to experience. Alex's lips pressed hard against mine, his tongue teased me, barely entering my mouth, lightly touching my lips before retreating back, his hand at the back of my neck, gently pulling me in close when he wanted to kiss me harder. 

Sitting there with our bodies intertwined, our lips pressed together, our tongues exploring one another, the sun neared its set position and the dark shadows become more clear on the patio. Alex moved both arms down and forcefully grabbed my butt, moving his lips away from mine but locking eyes with me as he slowly began lifting me up off of his shaft, and then motioning me to lower again. With my arms still around his neck and both feet firmly planted on the ground, our motions and rhythm quickly picked up the pace as I straddled him. Sitting up straight, my head was quite a bit higher than Alex's, which gave him the opportunity to lower his chin slightly and take my nipple into his mouth. I was in heaven now, too. The raw strength in Alex's young, strong arms lifting me up and down, his tongue flicking back and forth on my erect nipple, moving from one to the other, I began to feel lightheaded, the fire within me burning hot and nearing climax. 

I whispered into his ear "Fuck me baby, you're driving me wild!"

Alex gripped me ever harder and picked up the pace even more now; his breathing had become jagged, and much faster than a moment ago. He moaned "Ms. Smith, I'm getting really close, I can't hold off any longer!" and I felt his entire body start to tense up. "I'm going to cum Ms. Smith!" and I quickly lifted myself up and off of him, sitting as far back on the lounger as I could, quickly grasping his shaft at the base and taking the entire length into my mouth. "OH!" he exclaimed; the onset of his orgasm coupled with the unexpected sensations my mouth afforded him, sending him over the edge, his hips buckled and his hands instinctively went to the back of my head, holding me down tight as I felt his hot cum burst out and against the back of my throat. Having had a strong orgasm only a few hours prior, there wasn't much cum to swallow, but I remember taking every last drop before taking his beautiful shaft out of my mouth and placing it against my check as I looked up at his blissfully relaxed face. Alex's eyes were wide open, but it was as if he were a million miles away, his mind having escaped the confines of his body and for the time being there was nothing to take his attention away from his first time. 

I stayed in my position, slowly stroking his spent shaft back and forth for a moment, purposefully giving Alex the time he needed to come back down from space. I had been so close myself, but Alex's inexperience was to blame for not pacing himself. My body ached for sweet release, and the moment Alex's eyes seemed to focus back to reality, I stood up in front of him and looked him straight in the eye before saying "It's my turn now baby, follow me."

Alex quickly stood, gathering his clothing as we walked back towards the patio door leading to the kitchen. Sliding it door shut and taking Alex by the hand, I walked him back towards the living room. We didn't even need to take a peek, Matt's noticeable snore informing us of his deep slumber. I pulled a fully naked and somewhat hesitant Alex into room, leading him straight to the stairs and up to the master bedroom. Inside, the lights were and the window shades weren't drawn, the moon's ambience filled the room creating shadows and silhouettes. 

I let go of Alex's hand and said "Close the door behind us." As he did so, I backed away slowly and pushed the rest of my dress down past my hips and onto the floor. Alex could not clearly see me entirely due to the lack of light, but I'm sure he had a great view nonetheless. I turned sideways and slowly bent over, undoing the clasp on my heels and taking them off one at a time. Turning away from him now, I made my way towards the corner of the room and turning the large black swivel style computer chair away from the desk, swaying my hips, only the outline of which was visible in this absence of light. I sat down almost on the edge of the chair, leaning back and spreading my legs wide, saying "Come over Alex, I think it's time you showed me what you can do with your tongue."

Alex, eager as he was excited, moved silently towards me, his muscular outline ever more pronounced in the moonlight. Reaching the chair, he placed his hands on either side of the armrests, lowering himself down to kiss me deeply once more, his tongue once again teasing my lips. I drew my hands up, running them over his muscular pectorals. He slowly broke away from my mouth, lowering himself slightly, I felt his warm breath on my neck followed by his tongue lightly teasing my skin, barely touching me and then sliding down to my shoulder and back across my collarbone. I'd forgotten just how sensitive that area was, and I closed my eyes back and threw my head back against the soft leather backing of the chair. Alex moved from his being on his feet to sitting up on his knees, his hands leaving the armrests but now coming to either side of my hips and holding firmly as his tongue continued its journey, moving from my collarbone down between my breasts as they rose and lowered with my increasingly heavy breathing. Alex wetted his tongue and quickly transferred his saliva to my nipple, immediately pulling away and blowing lightly, sending a chill through my spine and causing me to arch my back in surprise. I looked down and asked "Where did you learn that, young man?"

Alex closed his eyes and smiled, not saying a word as he took my nipple into his mouth and gently flicked his tongue back and forth. Alex continued lowering himself down until his head was situated in front of my sex, I was so charged up already from the near-climax I'd experienced only minutes prior outside on the patio, I could feel his hot breath on my exposed clit. Alex lingered for a moment, just long enough to make me think perhaps he didn't know exactly how to make me feel good. Rather than embarrass him by asking outright, I slid my hands out and over his head as if wanting to run my hands through his hair. Gradually, I pulled him to the right spot and said "There baby, run your tongue over my clit, nice and slow." As his tongue touched me, I thought I was going to explode at that very moment, as long before Donald and I had stopped having sex, he'd not gone down on me in years. Feeling Alex run his tongue over my already stimulated clit felt as though I'd been shocked with an electric current, as if I'd never been licked before, and it made me appreciate the feelings that must have run through Alex's mind earlier this afternoon when I took him into my mouth.

I continued running my hands through Alex's hair, my moaning becoming steady and louder as he worked my clit, his tongue moving in small circles. Alex stopped momentarily, saying "Here Ms. Smith, lift your legs up", I did so, placing them onto his shoulders, his left arm reaching around and squeezing my thigh, the right hand coming up and parting my lips as he resumed licking at my swollen clit. Alex moved his tongue back and forth now from left to right, and again my moaning began without my even considering it. With his free right hand, Alex began probing my cunt with one finger, quickly replaced by both his middle and ring fingers, moving into a steady movement in and out of me coinciding with the movement of his tongue. Curling his fingers to stimulate my g-spot, my head was swamped once more with the lightheadedness I'd felt outside as I neared climax. Throwing my head back and closing my eyes once more, I savored every moment of Alex eating me out. My breathing had become completely broken and quickened; already I was so worked up from everything that had happened earlier today, and with our time outside, his fingers inside of me pushing me to the brink, a sudden, unexpected flick of his tongue hurling me over the edge as I felt the familiar oncoming rush of my orgasm. My body began tensing up, my hips began twisting and writhing and between breaths I said "Mmmm Alex, I'm cumming...I'm cumming...OH!", my hands grasping firmly at the back of his head, my entire body tensing up, my mouth wide open as the orgasm consumed me. Alex, sensing that I could not possibly take any more stimulation, removed his fingers from inside me, tilting his head and resting it against my inner thigh; my body so sensitive at that moment that even his breathing, his exhaling near my clit sent shivers down my spine. 

At that moment, my mind was somewhere completely separate from my body; I'd not had a man make me feel so alive in years, and only this afternoon I was the one giving him his first real blowjob in the living room. Control of my breathing was not my own, and gradually I came to feel the speed of my chest rising and falling as it eventually slowed to somewhat normal levels. My hands were still on his head, playing softly with his hair. I opened my eyes and looked down at Alex, seeing him looking pensively at my sex; this was probably the closest he'd ever gotten to a woman before, so his curiosity seemed only natural. After taking a deep breath to collect myself, I simply sighed and said "That was amazing."

Alex's gaze lifted up to mine, his mouth curving upwards into a smile. Without saying a word, he stood up, holding both of my hands and revealing much to my surprise and pleasure, his lovely manhood once again at full attention. It was clear that the virility of his youth craved more than the short session from outside on the patio. Alex locked eyes with me as he pulled me up out from the chair, placing an arm firmly around my waist, drawing me in close, kissing me with passion and purpose. We slowly turned around, he taking steps forward and causing me to move backwards until reaching the end of the bed. Breaking from our embrace as he continued forward, causing me to sit back on the bed. Alex crawled on his hands and knees towards me, encouraging me to move back towards the headboard. As my head reached the pillow, Alex crawled between my legs, his chest directly above my own, his left arm circling my back to hold me tight, his right hand coming behind my neck and lower head. For the first time, Alex was in complete control of the situation, of the positioning, of everything, and he knew it, as he looked into my eyes and placed his lips upon mine for a long, deep, sensual kiss, entering my wet and aching cunt once more with his hard cock. His movements were paced now, with purpose, filling me up completely and grinding into my clit for added sensation. Everything we'd done together today was not only eye-opening for Alex, it had desensitized him and made this slow, methodical rhythm possible. 

With each movement of his hips, slowly pulling out almost entirely and then filling me up again, I whimpered into his ear, he in turn moaning softly into mine, building up my excitement as Alex had clearly learned one of the most important aspects of his intended sexual education; feeling and reacting to his partners needs, their reactions giving tell-tale signs of what they desired, of what they needed. My arms paralleled his, one wrapping around his back, the other holding tight to the back of his head. Despite having had two strong orgasms today, Alex was rock-hard and hitting me deep inside. Very gradually, Alex began to pick up the pace of this thrusting, my moans increasing accordingly as he pumped into me, relieving the, until now, seemingly unknown craving I'd so missed over the years. 

Soon, our slow movements were replaced by fast, hard pumps. Alex sat up, moving his hands to my waist and gripping me tightly as he slammed his cock into me. My hand moved to caress my breasts, pinching the nipple, the other hand dropping down, my fingers making small circles on my exposed clit. I was spellbound by the perfect view in front of me; Alex's strong, muscular frame gripping me tight, his shaft pumping in and out of me. I could once again feel the tightness and familiarity of my oncoming orgasm. "Come on Alex, fuck me, you feel so good inside of me!" I said as my entire body began to tense up. My words had the desired effect I'd hoped for, as Alex enthusiastically began to fuck me faster and harder than before, his eyes surveying the entirety of my body before him. This was enough to send me over the edge, my head flew back into the pillow, my hands instantly gripped his wrists as he continued his hard frenzied thrusting; "Aaaahhhhh!" I moaned loudly, almost screaming as my orgasm ripped through me, much more intensely than before. The effect was not lost on Alex, his cock becoming harder, his body tensing in that familiar way I'd seen twice before today; "I'm going to cum again Ms. Smith, I'm cuming...I'm cumming!" he grunted as he pulled into me once more, slamming his cock deep inside, collapsing onto me, his mouth once again near my ear, his panting and heavy breathing resonating with the end of his climax. 

Alex and I laid together for that moment, bodies intertwined, as the intensity of our near-simultaneous orgasms washed over us. His breathing slowed, matching mine. As he lay, completely spent and still very relaxed from the drinks he'd shared with Matt throughout the day, I slid my hands up around his back, softly tracing circles with the tips of my fingers over his muscular frame. His whole body seemed sensitive to my touch, and he responded with a soft moan, saying "Mmmm, that feels great Ms. Smith." I said nothing, simply continuing with my soft caressing of his back.

As I myself calmed down and returned to reality, Chrystal's words came to the forefront of my thoughts. She was right, even if Alex weren't leaving for college within a couple of weeks, and despite how much he may enjoy my "company", and I his, he should be using his newfound confidence and sexual knowledge to win over some pretty young thing more towards his own age, and there were bound to be many of those once he moved away for school. My thoughts were interrupted by Alex's easing backwards, withdrawing from within me and turning onto his side. 

I took this opportunity to say "That was exactly what I needed. Did you enjoy it?"

The look on his face reminded me of a child seeing Disneyland for the first time. "Hell yeh Ms. Smith, that felt amazing!"

His eager responses still made me smile. I turned towards the edge of the bed and stood up, stretching upwards, giving Alex a full view of my naked, completely satisfied body, saying "Well, now you know exactly how to make a woman smile in bed, and believe me, if you do what you did to me, they'll be begging you for more, every time."

I walked over to the closet and fetched my red satin silk robe. Draping it over my shoulders and loosely tying it at the belt, I walked over towards Alex and said "You should probably get back down to Matt, see if he needs a hand getting to his room in the basement, and then you should probably get some rest, too."

My words left Alex looking slightly disappointed, but only for a moment. He too must have understood that everything that had happened today would likely stay confined to today, as he also knew that he was leaving for school shortly, and either way it would not continue. Alex stood up and moved towards the pile of clothes he'd tossed into the corner when we came into the room, saying "That sounds great, Ms. Smith." I enjoyed watching his muscular body cross the room. He picked up his shorts first and slipped them on, leaving his shirt in his left hand. Looking over to me in the darkness, the moon now illuminating more of the room than before, he moved quickly back to me, silently, not saying a word, and embracing me with his arms, squeezing my chest into his own. Before I had any chance to object, I felt his lips press firmly against my own. Our mouths naturally opened, tongues meeting in a soft swirl. The passionate kiss lasted only a few seconds before Alex broke away, taking a step back and saying "Thanks for everything Ms. Smith, I had a lot of fun today with a beautiful lady."




My Son's Best Friend Ch. 02



I blushed in the moonlight, saving me the embarrassment I felt as Alex turned and walked out of the bedroom. 

Lying again in my bed, closing my eyes and almost instantly going under, I slept a perfect dreamless sleep.

As planned, nothing more occurred between Alex and I. Over the next two weeks our busy schedules with work and his and Matt's packing for school wouldn't allow for anything to occur. Both he and Matt left for their respective colleges and I remained in town, continuing with my career and enjoying my workouts, spending more time with friends. Though Alex was certainly not my only conquest of sexual youth, he always remained in my memories as my first. 

Later that same year, I was offered quite the promotion at work; however it required moving out East, clear across the country. I was hesitant at first, but soon realized that my friends and I would keep in touch, and the most important man in my life, my son Matt, would only be visiting me during the summer months between college semesters, so the change wasn't exactly going to be too hard on him. He and his girlfriend could easily come and visit me, or he could return with her and stay with her family for a bit. 

Making the transition from a relatively small capital city to a much larger one was not difficult for me; work kept me busy, I found a great pool and yoga studio, and quickly made friends (not to mention a few more young friends who shared my company for a time, I enjoyed the rush of teaching these young, eager studs how to love a woman, and they appreciated it too). 

In the spring of 2010 I met Eric, a 49 year old man, as we shared a lane at the pool one morning. Gradually, we came to know each other and eventually he asked me out to dinner. Despite being two years older than I, his spirit and attitude was that of a young, enthusiastic man, the world full of possibilities to him. This was a refreshing change from a lot of the older men I worked with, and his youthful vigor carried over to the bedroom as well, something I much appreciated. Much like me, his children were all grown up and either finished or finishing school, his wife had passed away nearly nine years ago, and he had only recently become social again, according to his friends. 

For the first time in I didn't know how many years, I felt as though I were in love again, and his proposal filled me with joy and happiness. We married in a small ceremony with only our closest family and friends attending. Returning from our honeymoon in the Caribbean, there was a package awaiting us. Eric had gone to pick up some wine for later that evening, and so I alone opened the package, seeing the wrapping paper and realizing it was a wedding gift. 

As I opened the envelope and began reading the card, my heart skipped a beat; with humility, with kindness, and with appreciation, it read:

"Dear Ms. Smith,

Matt tells me that you've gotten married again. Congratulations, I sincerely wish you both all the best. 

I still remember the days with Matt, playing video games, and spending one great time on the patio.

Thanks again, for everything.

Best, 

Alex"

*

The end.



My Son's Best Friend Ch. 03



"I'm not worried about the neighbors, 'cuz they're half a mile away," I declared. "But that doesn't mean I want Paul to know - yet."

"I know," he replied.

"You do?"

"Yeah. He might be a little freaked," he admitted.

"Yeah..."

I grinned at him, and we sat and stared, quiet again. I had never talked so little with someone, and felt so good doing it. It was like treading water, floating in a timeless pool with the sun glinting overhead, disappearing into its brilliance. I just wanted to stay.

He wrapped his long limbs around me on the couch, our naked skin warm and slippery in the afternoon summer heat. The birds were chirping wildly outside the window, and a sultry breeze wafted in through the open screen. I lay my head against his chest with a sigh.

Suddenly, I bolted upright.

"What time is it?"

"I don't know," Jonah answered lazily.

I jumped up and ran into the kitchen. The clock on the stove said 6:00.

"Oh my God. Paul's due home any minute. I can't believe it's this late!"

I swept Jonah's clothes up off the floor and thrust them toward him. He was slow getting up, and I realized with chagrin that he really didn't know the meaning of hurry. But he managed to put his pants and T-shirt on, and disappear down the driveway a full ten minutes before Paul arrived.

My heart was pounding, and I ducked into my room to try to calm it before I greeted him. I banged pots and pans around in the kitchen as a distraction, conjuring ideas for dinner. I knew his growling stomach would serve to focus his attention away from me.

****

I felt warm and full when I climbed between the covers that night, and it wasn't from the spaghetti and meatballs I'd thrown together for Paul. I thought back to the afternoon, and when I closed my eyes, I dared to imagine Jonah lying next to me. Maybe it couldn't happen tonight, but maybe it could happen soon.

I began to wonder how I could get Paul out of the house for a night. Surely he might go to a party or spend the night with a date some time soon.

All of a sudden, all the energy I'd been pouring into staying away from Jonah was now directed toward all the ways we could start being together.

"Are you crazy? This town hasn't changed any since you decided to screw Jonah again," I lectured myself.

But I already had six ideas about how we could see each other, and it didn't seem all that difficult to manage, suddenly. In fact, I smiled a little wickedly to myself. It sounded like fun to have a secret affair that no one would suspect of little ol' me! I had an advantage that way, because I didn't look like the kind of person who would do such a thing. Why would anyone suspect me? I was just ordinary.

The most important thing was to keep it from Jonah's mother, Paul, and my best friend, Margaret. If we could do that, we'd be okay. I didn't know Jonah's mother very well, but I figured I was safe assuming she wouldn't think highly of what we were doing.  

We would just have to be careful, and smart, and think ahead. In fact, I would have to be careful and think ahead for both of us, because I had the feeling Jonah was not into deceit. Neither was I, but I was smart, and this was worth it. And Jonah's quiet introversion would play to our advantage. We would find a way. I felt exhilarated!

****

Jonah filled my mind both night and day now. I replayed all the minutest interactions we had had with one another, both before and after that fateful afternoon when we had found ourselves alone together in my truck. 

I remembered the little boy he had been when he first became friends with Paul, and how strange I had thought him then. He was different, for sure. But I hadn't known then what a river of sweetness ran below the surface. Past experience had shown me that quiet guys often carried a lot of anger behind their stoic faces. Maybe he had his anger too. And maybe he didn't.

Anyway, he definitely had some passion, and I couldn't wait to find out what else was there.

I welcomed the chance to be alone in my garden with my thoughts. I knew I couldn't see him every minute of every waking day, like I wanted to; so I just had to settle for thinking about him, planning, and finding something to do with my hands until I could get them on him again.

A few worries played around all the happy thoughts, but I didn't let them spoil the euphoria I was feeling. Yeah, there were no guarantees about how long this would last. That just meant I had to enjoy it the best I could, for as long as I could. But at least I felt confident that, however long it lasted, it could remain hidden from the view of the local morality brigade.

****

Luckily, I didn't have to wait too long before Jonah showed up again. He didn't have a job or anything, so his time wasn't monopolized by much that I knew of. What did occupy it was actually beyond me. I realized suddenly that I didn't have a clue how he spent his time when he wasn't with Paul. Hmmm...

The two of them came into the kitchen in the late evening, headed for the TV in the front room as usual. A quick jolt passed through my chest, headed straight south, while blood rushed to my face and pulsed suddenly behind my temples.

I didn't dare look at Jonah with Paul in the room, watching us. So I busied myself at the counter and ignored them as they passed through. The lasagna was in the oven, but I cut up lettuce and tomatoes for the salad, glad to have something to do. My clit was tingling and my legs felt weak, and I just wanted Jonah to touch me.

I was so caught up in my thoughts about him, he took me by surprise when he grasped my arm. Before I knew what had happened, he had pulled me to the wall behind the doorway and was pressed against me, filling my mouth with his tongue and kneading my ass with his persuasive hands. The thin cotton dress I had on was a flimsy barrier to his ambush, as he thrust his hand inside it to fondle my breast, tearing a button in his fervor. 

"Go in your bedroom, and I'll take a bathroom break in five minutes," he breathed in my ear.

Then he adjusted his pants and collected two beers out of the fridge before returning to the living-room.

I slipped into my room, which was conveniently situated off the kitchen through a tiny hallway which also led to the bathroom, and closed the door surreptitiously.

I pulled my dress and panties off, enjoying the fact that so little material had separated me from him in the kitchen.

Then I lay naked on the bed, clutching and molding my own breast with my hand, sliding the other one into the juices already rising within me. I knew we wouldn't have much time, and I wanted to be ready when he came in.

The sound of his footsteps outside the door almost sent me over the edge, but I pulled back as he opened it and stepped inside. Dropping his pants and pulling his shirt over his head simultaneously, his red cock bounced at right angles to his flat belly as he crawled onto the bed and loomed over me.

"Do you know how hot it makes me to see you touching yourself like that?" he growled.

He seized my breasts with both hands, his elbows pressed on the bed, and his mouth swallowed my face. His cock pushed against my fingers as he drove past them and buried himself deep inside me, his balls crushed against my anus.

He moved above me hard and fast, pounding, tightening his grip as the craving intensified.

"Oh, fuck me, Jonah. Fuck me deep. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God, Jonah!"

His breath came in rough gasps as the power surged, pushing him past the point of no return. He grabbed my ass, pulling it toward him, driving through me until he had vanquished the tower and flattened it. My body thrust outward and contracted like one big muscle, squeezing him and falling, falling, falling.

We panted hard, and my dry mouth curved into an open smile as I looked into his dazed eyes.

"So," I exhaled. "You do know how to hurry."

His mouth closed over mine and I sucked his tongue. Then he pushed himself up and put his pants on. He gave me a long, deep stare before opening the door. Then he was gone, closing it carefully behind him.

I rolled to my side, closing my eyes and sighing. I didn't even care that he was gone, because I could still feel him here, his scent and weight heavy in the air around me. So what if Paul was in the other room. I didn't care about anything right now. Paul could have watched us, and I wouldn't have cared. And they could serve their own dinner.

The only thing that mattered was that I felt thoroughly and utterly fucked; wholly possessed and loved; and ready to go to sleep.



My Son's Best Friend Ch. 04



I slept late the next morning, feeling almost drugged from the intensity of the previous night's encounter. My legs were sticky with his semen, and I rubbed my fingers over them and licked them before getting into the shower.

I took my time over a leisurely breakfast of yogurt and berries and a cup of cinnamon tea with lots of cream in it at the little table on the porch. I smiled to myself for no reason, hugged my arms, rubbing their soft skin with my hands, listened to the birds going crazy in the tree next to me.

"Oh, darlin', please believe me...I'll never do you no wro-hong..."

The radio was playing a medley of Beatles tunes. "...All ya' need is love; ba-pa ba-papa; all ya' need is love; doo-too doo-doo-doo..."

"Somethin' in the way she moves, attracts me like no other lover..."

I closed my eyes and twirled in a circle to that one.

"...Straw-ber-ry fi-elds for-ev-er-r-r..."

Then I switched the radio off, and snatches of the songs played in my head all day long.

I sat in the sun and stared at my garden, watching it grow.

"I need to thin those carrots," I thought to myself. "I should transplant that chard."

But I just sat, too lazy to get up.

I closed my eyes, and I could feel Jonah inside me again, like an explosion. I thought back to the way he had pushed me against the wall, devouring me. Oh God! He was so amazing. I had had no idea what I was starting that day in my truck.

Like an unwitting camper, I had put a few sticks together and lit a match, and now the dry grass around it had caught and a nearby weed was going up, and the fire was spreading...

I took a deep breath and quenched it. Okay. Okay. Save it for later. Keep the lid on. Maybe I could see him tonight.

The day wore on slowly. I was just waiting for it to end. I had an idea. My breasts were swollen, my nipples hard, my cunt steaming with anticipation. I couldn't wait till it got dark.

I watched the four-o'clocks open their petals with minute movements and smelled their sweet fragrance, and looked at the delicate inner parts of white and fuscia, with their tiny hair-like projections in the center. I watched the sun set over the mountains, and waited for the shadows to darken. Then the moon rose in its glorious roundness, and I knew it was the perfect night.

I said goodnight to Paul and went into my bedroom. I looked in my closet, wondering what would be just right. I couldn't decide. Nothing struck me in particular.

I pulled off the top and shorts I had put on in the morning, then the underwear. I stood naked, loving the way it felt. Then I made my decision. Out in the country here, there probably wouldn't be anyone around, and the shadows of the night would cover me. I could duck behind a tree if I needed to.

I grabbed the afghan off my bed and threw it over my shoulders against the cool night air, slipped into some sturdy shoes, and climbed out the window. I laughed quietly to myself, relishing the rush of excitement that suddenly flooded me.

Jonah's house was a few miles away - not that far. He had walked to my house that day. I could walk to his.

I took a route through the hills along the river and avoided the highway. The moon lit my path easily, and I loved the feeling of freedom I had, alone with the crickets. An occasional dog barked in the distance, and some coyotes howled, but I didn't pass close enough to any houses to be seen.

Whenever I thought of Jonah, a lightening jolt shot through my clit and my belly. I was scared and elated, and both were making my body electric with apprehension.

I held the afghan up above my shoes, trying to keep it out of the way of the burrs and stickers that invariably stuck to it.

There were other houses on Jonah's road, and the bright lights shining from their windows startled me. I had to walk by the highway now, but I stayed down in the ravine, and ducked by trees when one or two cars drove by with their blinding headlights.

Then I saw his house. It was dimly lit, and I couldn't tell if anyone was home. Luckily, I knew Jonah's bedroom was a freestanding building in the back - I think it had been a garage; and I didn't think they had a dog.

Walking gingerly around the edge of the yard, I saw a light in his front window, dimmed by the tweed curtain hung over it.

My heart was in my throat now and pounding like it wanted out. Was he really there? Did I have the guts to pull this off?

Well, I couldn't even think about going home without seeing him now. So I went to his side window and looked in. He was lying on the bed, loud music blaring, his eyes closed.

Oh God. I didn't want to startle him too much. I tapped on the windowpane. No response. I tapped a little harder. A little harder. A little harder.

I rapped sharply with my knuckles. Then I banged!

His head flew up from his pillow and his body contorted into some awkward karate-like position. I would have laughed out loud if I hadn't been so scared - that his mother would hear me, or that he would come after me with a baseball bat, thinking I was an intruder!

His dilated eyes looked through the window without recognition, and I pressed my face close, hoping he could see enough of it in the diffused light. Then he did a double-take, and his mouth dropped open.

Looking around the room to make sure he was alone (I felt so paranoid - it was already obvious no one was there), I pulled the afghan open with my arms, raised from the squatting position I had been in to show him my face, and pressed my nipples and belly against the cold windowpane, like a strange pair of goggle eyes.

He went to the door then, threw it open, and came around to where I was standing.

"What the...?" he exclaimed. Then he laughed.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he said, fingering the fringe of the afghan which I had folded around me again.

I drew the curtain, displaying myself in all my naked beauty. His eyes wandered up and down my contours.

"God, woman..."

I didn't want to break the spell, but I had to know. "Is your mother home?"

"Yeah, she's in there watching TV. You wanna come in?" he motioned toward the door to his bedroom.

"No. I want you to come out." I made a sweeping gesture to nowhere in particular. He looked at me and laughed.

"Do you know somewhere we could go?"

"Hell, yeah!"

"Grab a blanket."

He pulled the comforter off the bed and looked at me expectantly. I moved to leave, and we left the lights and music on behind the door as he closed it. Taking my arm, he steered me toward the hill to the east.

"Where are we going?" I asked, rounding a big juniper and picking my way through the dry grass, narrowly avoiding a cactus plant.

He didn't answer.

My breathing became noisy as the music faded into the background and the crickets could be heard again. Its metronome increased tempo as the terrain got steeper and more arduous. I was beginning to sweat under the afghan, so I took it off and carried it in a bundle. 

Jonah looked at me walking next to him, then stopped, staring. So I stopped.

He motioned me forward, so I started walking again. He stood still, watching me. Then he ran past me, up the hill a ways, turned around and stood again as I climbed slowly up the incline. Hills were not as easy for me to take as they used to be.

His eyes were riveted on my white form in the moonlight, so I put the afghan behind me.

I watched his face while he watched my body, moving toward him up the hill. His look was like worship: devout, rapt, entranced. And ravenous. His eyes drew me toward him like an invisible line reeling me in.

When I reached him, he put his arm around my shoulder. I was dwarfed by his height, and his arm was so long, he could easily play with my breast as his hand dangled above it.

He brushed my nipple with his thumb a few times, then took it lightly between his thumb and finger and twisted gently. I stopped and drew in a sharp breath that didn't want to come out again. My clit was immediately sparked, and I felt like sinking to the ground.

"Oh," I moaned, panting. "You keep doing that, I'll never make it up this hill."

He stopped then, and we trudged the last few meters to the top.

He lay the blanket on the ground and invited me to recline, plopping down next to me. We took our clunky shoes off and set them by the blanket. The moon shone like a spotlight on my white skin, and he took his fingertips and traced patterns over it.

"Don't you want to take your clothes off?" I prompted.

"I like the contrast," he muttered. "The juxtaposition."

Wow, an artist.

But I wanted to see him. I wanted to feel him inside me again. Enough of this preamble.

"Come on," I cajoled, grabbing his shirt in my fist.

All at once, he climbed on top of me, sliding his hand up my side, sucking my neck, pushing his erection against the depression of my thighs.

"Ow. Those jeans are rough. I told you you should take your clothes off," I lectured, rocking with his movements against me.

He relented then, and I impatiently jerked at his jeans and polo shirt, only making it take longer because I was in such a hurry.

"That's more like it," I exhaled as his skin met mine, dancing over me, writhing, trying to get in.

"You want me, don't you," I teased.

The insistent rhythm of his body answered me.

"But I'm not ready," I lied, taking his hand and sliding it over my labia.

"Make me ready."

He thrust his fingers into the succulent opening and found the bud of my clit, thumbing it back and forth.

I grabbed his erection, squeezing it with my hand, moving it into that piston action that would result in superconductivity and a high-power fuel-injection system!

Hell, I didn't know what that meant, but it sure sounded sexy in my head.

His thumb and my fist were doing a duet, or a duel, depending on how you wanted to look at it, and we were about to climax, so I brought his cock to my cunt, and without breaking stride, he pierced me through and continued the cadence.

We built it higher and higher, and then backed off right at the edge.

I was panting, trying to catch my breath, adrenaline flowing as if I had really just almost gone over a cliff.

"Oh, don't stop, don't stop!"

So he started the rhythm again, driving deeper, harder. "Oh yes!" I cried, climbing, clawing, scratching, scrambling, clambering to the edge again. We teetered momentarily.

The we went over, and there was no stopping. With a mighty rush, the waterfall pounded down the precipice, dashing its streams against the rocks below, breaking into a million pieces, which leapt up and evaporated into mist, fogging us into that place of complete, absolute, total exhaustion.

We slept, his erection still rigid for a while, then finally deflating slowly. He was sprawled on top of me, his flaccid penis still inside.

He got heavy, and I pushed at him. Reluctantly, he slid out of me and rolled onto his back, groaning sleepily.

I cuddled up to his side, and he folded me under his arm. I pulled the afghan over us.

"I wanna sleep with you," I murmured.

I closed my eyes and was gone.

****

My eyes felt sore, and I squeezed them tightly, then opened them a crack and squinted at the moon. It was like a big flood lamp in the dark sky, only somebody had moved it.

I was shivering, the wet spot under my bottom icy, and I tried to burrow close to Jonah, but it was no use.

"Jonah," I began, then stopped, suddenly noticing how good it felt to say that out loud, to him.

His voice was surprisingly alert when he answered. "We better go down, huh."

"Yeah."

This scenario wasn't nearly as romantic as it had been earlier. It was just plain cold!

Shivering, he put his pants on and I his shirt. We put both covers over us and tried to walk holding on to each-other. 

But it was too awkward, downhill, with the size difference. So he gave me the comforter and he took the afghan, and after a while, with the exertion, we were a little warmer, and getting into the stride.

We got closer to his house, and I didn't want to go home. But I didn't know if I could sleep in his bed, knowing his mother was right next door.

"So, what're the chances of me staying over?" I ventured.

"Sure," was his monosyllabic reply.

"What about your mother?"

"She sleeps in. She's busy with her girlfriend."

"She doesn't come to wake you up, or see what you're doing?" I questioned.

"She doesn't want to know what I'm doing," he replied tersely.

So he shut off the light when we got inside, and we took off the shirt and pants and crawled into his bed. I curled up next to him, breathing in all the smells of him in his room. He kissed my mouth.

"I love you Jonah."

The words hung in the moonlit grey, unanswered, and I didn't know what he thought of them. But I didn't care. I just wanted him to know.

Then we went to sleep.



My Son's Best Friend Ch. 05



I woke when the moon was setting, and the first rays of day were just peeking over the hill we had climbed last night.

It was so luscious to be lying next to his muscular frame, and I caressed his chest, running my hands over his brown nipples, and rubbed my foot up and down his hairy leg.

Looking around, I suddenly realized I no longer had the cloak of night to escort me home. I hadn't quite thought this through.

I sat up, wiping my face, pushing my hair back, trying to think.

"Jonah," I whispered. "Jonah!" I poked him. "I need some clothes."

He opened his eyes slowly and they met my breasts, dangling right at eye level.

"What do you have that could fit me?"

He smiled lazily. "Not much."

I got up, looking around. I picked up discarded clothing from the pile on the floor. It was all so huge!

"Uh, look in that drawer," he motioned. "I think I have a T-shirt from fourth grade in there."

I found a rather mangy faded red shirt with a hole in it. Well, it would have to do.

"Do you have any biking shorts? You know, the tight kind?"

"Uh, maybe."

I sorted through drawers, and found some spandex shorts I thought wouldn't fall off me. At least I had hips and a butt to keep them up.

Putting the outfit on, I was sure I was quite a sight. Hopefully there wouldn't be an audience this early in the morning. I carefully avoided the small mirror on his wall.

"'Bye lover," I leaned over and kissed him.

I threw the afghan over me and waltzed out the door.

I took the same path home that I had come, and hoped I was too far away for the old woman who looked out her window at me to recognize, traipsing across the hill near my house. A person could go for an early morning walk, now, couldn't they?

I snuck in through my window and curled up in my bed. Returning to sleep was a delicious prospect.

****

When I finally got up, Paul was gone, and I had the house to myself. I hummed, putting water on to boil for tea, washing dishes, doing laundry.

But every time I though of Jonah, it was like my body was on red alert again.

I decided I should wait till the weekend before I saw him; and when I did, he said he'd been busy, but he didn't say doing what.

When I couldn't see him, thoughts of him put me in overdrive, and my fingers reached to my own nipples, my own dark, dank cavern. The energy was compelling, and it only seemed to be getting more virulent. My idle was stuck on high, and it wouldn't downshift.

I called him on the phone one afternoon when Paul was at work.

"Jonah, I'm so hot for you, I don't know what to do with myself," I pleaded. "I swear, my body's plugged into a high voltage circuit, and I feel like I'm on overload."

"I'll be right over," he replied.

I paced the floor, waiting for him to arrive. I shoved peanuts into my mouth, crunching them nervously.

He looked through the screen of the back door at me, and I gestured, "Come in come in!"

I hugged him, holding him around his middle, and he felt so solid and good. He kissed me gently.

"Peanuts, huh."

"Yeah. You want some?"

He shook his head.

"Jonah, I..."

"Shhh," he purred.

He held my back with one large hand, and stroked my hair with the other, bumping down my blond curls.

"Shhh. You wanna lie down?"

I nodded. He took my hand and led me to the bedroom.

I lay on the bed on my back, and he lay on his side next to me. He placed his hand on my belly over my clothes.

I closed my eyes. My head and my clit were buzzing and my temples hurt. But in my belly was this solid, calm, soothing weight. As I focused on it, it seemed to draw me down into this vacuum of darkness and weightlessness. The buzzing was slipping into a drain, and I was falling off a cliff that had no bottom. Then I was in the water, swaying like a reed with the current, and I had no head.

I fell into a deep sleep, and when I woke I felt very groggy.

Jonah was in the kitchen. I called him, and he came to the door with a sandwich in his hand, chewing.

He came over and sat on the edge of the bed.

"How did you do that?" I mumbled.

"I dunno."

"Wow. You have a gift or something."

He gave me a little half-smile. Then he thrust the sandwich at me.

"No thanks. I'm not hungry." I rolled away from him. "I jus' wanna sleep..."

My words were barely audible as I drifted off again.

****

When I woke a second time, the room was dark and I could hear the TV in the other room.

I heard the 'fridge open.

"Jonah?"

Paul looked in through the doorway, backlit by the dim bulb in the kitchen.

"What?" he asked. "Did you say 'Jonah'?"

"No, no," I said emphatically. "A doughnut. I said I want a doughnut."

I couldn't believe I had come up with that so fast. A doughnut? Was I crazy?? I was laughing inside.

"You want a doughnut."

I grinned a little sheepishly. "Yeah. I want a doughnut. Don't you ever get cravings? The glazed ones are my favorite. But then the maple ones are good too. And the raspberry filled ones - and the cinnamon twists! I was just lying here thinking about them."

He chuckled. "You got wiped out today. You've been sleeping ever since I got home. You sick or something? You want me to feel your forehead?"

He waved his hand at me like someone who had never felt a forehead before.

"No thanks, Paul. I'm okay."

"Jonah said you weren't feeling so good."

"Jonah?!"

"Yeah. He was here when I got home, eating all our food. He said he gave you a massage or something."

"Well, it wasn't a massage. He just put his hand on my stomach here, over my clothes, and I went out like a light. I really needed that rest."

"Weird." Paul made his usual blunt commentary.

"So when's 'e moving in?"

"What?"

Paul smirked. "When's 'e moving in?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I just wanna know: now that you've stolen my best friend away from me, what're you gonna do with 'im?"

My face fell. I looked away and sighed.

"I'm sorry," I whined plaintively.

Paul laughed. "Relax, Mom. I'm just joking."

"You are?"

"Yeah. I'm cool with it."

"Really?" I was incredulous. "How did you...? Where did you...?" I looked at him, puzzled.

"Mom, you've been trippin' lately. You think I didn't notice? You think I didn't see the electric fuzzies in the air between you and Jonah?"

"Oh, God. I thought I was hiding it so well..."

"Besides, he told me."

"He told you?...Oh God. I'm undone. I'm finished in this town..."

Paul chuckled again. "Relax, Mom. It's not the 1950's, y'know."

"Oh, I can't face this," I complained, pressing my fingers to my eyes.

"Nobody knows, Mom. Nobody but me and the flies on the wall."

"You really think so? You don't think anyone sees the big red letter "A" plastered across my chest?"

He laughed at me again. "I was just joking Mom, really. I didn't know until he told me."

"You mean it?"

"Yeah. I knew you were a little distracted, but I thought maybe you just had your period, or got a bill in the mail, or something. Women are always crazy. You never know what's bugging 'em."

"Well, thanks. That's reassuring."

"Sure. Any time."

"You really don't mind that I'm seeing Jonah?"

"Hell, I wish I had a steady date. Yeah, I'm a little freaked. But I'll get over it.

"Who am I to stand in the way of his happiness - or yours."

"Wow. I'm blown away, Paul. Thank you."

"Yeah, whatever. American Idol's on. I gotta go."

"Goodnight, Paul," I called as he disappeared.

I noticed then that the afghan was stretched over me. I pulled it down, took off my clothes, and climbed between the sheets.

But I couldn't get back to sleep, so I got up, threw on my robe, went to the bathroom, and raided the 'fridge for leftovers. Now I was hungry.

With my tummy full and my head empty, finding sleep again was amazingly quick and easy.

*     ***

Jonah came over the next night and he and Paul landed in the front room as usual. They invited me to join them, but I had no interest in what they were watching. I did the dinner dishes, and was just draining the sink when Jonah came in.

"Beer's in the 'fridge," I announced.

He pressed his legs and torso against my backside and whispered in my ear, "I know where the beer lives."

I laughed and stopped mid-movement with the dishrag.

His hands slid around to the front of my skirt and cupped my pubic bone, while he kissed my hair. Then he took both hands and covered my breasts, squeezing them, pulling me back toward him.

"Jonah," I scolded. "Paul's in the other room."

"That didn't stop you before," he murmured.

"Yeah, but he didn't know anything that night. Now he knows. He'll know what we're doing!"

"So?"

"So maybe that's a little uncomfortable for him. Go finish your movie, and come find me when he goes to bed."

Jonah let go then and got the beer.

I went to my room. My blood was racing, and I was sorry I had sent him away. But I was right to be concerned about Paul. He was being a sport about this; but Jonah was his best friend, and I knew if we stepped too far up on his toes, he'd squeal. We could share.

I found a book to occupy myself.

It was late and I was asleep by the time Jonah tiptoed into my room. The door squeaked behind him, and the floor creaked under his feet. I was turned toward the wall opposite the bed, and he climbed in behind me, naked.

Easing his hands around to my breasts, he closed over them and breathed in my ear, "Now, where were we?"

I put my hands over his and nuzzled my head back. He buried his face in my hair, and I could feel his erection growing against my backside.

"Take my gown off," I requested.

Together, we pulled it up over my head and dropped it on the floor, my hair falling in ringlets over my face and splaying across the pillow. He kissed the back of my exposed neck, and licked it, flicking his tongue in quick little motions.

He closed the gates again, sealing me into his fortress. He held me very still, and I could feel the heat oozing out of his skin into me. We weren't moving, yet below the surface, blood was surging and neurons were tingling.

Slowly, he began to push his pelvis forward, jabbing me softly with his foil. He was moving in slow motion, and his half-time movements created double-time sensations inside me.

Holding me across the chest with his arm, he took his other hand and ran his finger through the wet spot, moving it all the way back to my asshole. He left it there, just touching lightly, and I started to groan. How could so little movement move me so much?

He pressed ever so gently, and my entire gonads were on fire. He was touching one spot, and I felt overtaken by him. He tightened his arm across my chest, heightening the tension. Had he really never done this before? I found it hard to believe.

He spit on his hand and rubbed it all over his penis. Sliding it against my crack, he pushed the tip forward. It paused ever so slightly as it slid past my anus and into the drenched well beyond it. Then he began to slide in and out, pressing the top against my asshole.

He took both hands and circled my waist, holding me in place, his hands tight with the same tension I could feel from his pelvis, thrusting heavily.

I groaned. Groaned again. Oh...I could feel him moving deeper and deeper. It wasn't just his penis. It wasn't just physical. I could feel his pulsations moving through my belly, up my torso, through my chest, making my head spin. The fire was spreading, snaking, flying into my arms, my legs, my fingers and toes. I was consumed, and I knew that when he was finished, I would be nothing but ash.

"Ash-hole," I laughed to myself. 

Then I quit thinking, and all I could do was feel. It was like going into the interior of a TV screen with snow on it; I could feel the sizzling snow cracking and popping around me. And that heat. That incredible hot molten tip, so hot it was almost cold, spreading like lava from a volcano, melting everything, everything, everything.

He gripped me tighter, and I knew it was coming. And I didn't know what it was. And I wanted to run away from it. And I wanted to run into it. It was coming! It was coming!

Then it blew, and I knew his jism was shooting straight through my body and out the top of my head, and out my fingertips and toes, raining down around us, filling the room, pouring down and making a river which carried the bed away to Neverneverland. And we were floating down the river, and Captain Hook would never catch us, and the crocodile couldn't hurt us because we were already inside his belly: floating, floating, floating... 



My Son's Best Friend Ch. 06



We slept, Jonah draped around and over me. A thought wandered through my brain about the mother question, but he was a big boy, and it didn't appear they were very close, to say the least.

He wouldn't tell her where he'd been, or who he'd been with. If she even asked, his response would probably be, "Out." And if she said, "Where?" he could say, "Paul's house," but it probably wouldn't even get that far. Now, his friendship with Paul seemed rather convenient.

****

It felt kind of weird to be in the kitchen with both Jonah and Paul for breakfast. They only wanted coffee, and I got something simple for myself.

But having my son and his best friend as my lover in the same room left me feeling like an actor with no motivation. I didn't know my lines; I couldn't remember the stage directions, so I just sort of stood stiffly by myself, hoping someone would plug in the teleprompter.

Paul stood leaning against the wall with his arms folded and Jonah sprawled on a chair by the table, and I had the feeling they didn't know their lines either.

I sat at the table next to Jonah very straight with my bowl of cereal, and my movements were kind of robotic.

Paul got his coffee and took it to the front room. I got up and poured some for Jonah and set it in front of him. Then I sat down again. The cereal stuck in my throat. It didn't want to go down.

Jonah sipped his coffee, and I managed to finish most of the bowl.

Jonah stood up. "'Bye."

I looked up, a little startled. "Oh. 'Bye."

He moved to the doorway and gave a quick hand gesture in Paul's direction.

"See ya'," came from the living-room.

Then he headed out the back door. For some reason, it really bothered me that he didn't kiss me good-bye.

All day long, I kept feeling like I'd forgotten to do something. Then I would remember. He hadn't kissed me good-bye.

I told myself that it didn't matter. That things had been a little awkward. That he was part of the younger generation. That they did things differently. That they didn't have the same social habits as my generation. That maybe he was distracted.

That he didn't have to kiss me. That what he'd given me the night before, and all the other times was plenty. That we'd had lots of wonderful kisses. 

But it still bugged me. I just felt something missing, all day long.

I think what was really missing was security. Our relationship still felt so tentative, so fragile. Like the least little thing could vaporize it, and there'd be nothing left but memories. We'd had some mind-blowing exchanges, but I was starting to want more. I wanted to know more about Jonah: who he was; what he was doing when he wasn't fucking my brains out.

The things I had felt from him so far - from his hands, his mouth, his sex - he was so intuitive; there was this power there, this...gift. And all the things he didn't say. I knew they were in there - at least, I thought they were - because on some level his silence was more eloquent than any of the philosophical speeches I had ever heard.

I wondered if I was just making all this up. After all, a lot of the time, Jonah was just a blank canvas. Maybe I was just painting what I wanted to see. Maybe there really was nothing behind his quiet, sometimes sullen, demeanor. Maybe he really wasn't saying anything.

Well, he had treated me pretty great so far. It was making me want more. And there was only one way to find out if what I was hoping to find was there. Keep seeing him.

Not that anyone could have stopped me at this point.

I got an idea late in the day. I called Jonah and asked if he wanted to go on a picnic the next day. He said okay.

"I could pick you up..." I offered, then thought better of it. "No, you better come over here first. We'll go from here."

My driveway was hidden from the view of all my neighbors, so I felt safe leaving with Jonah. We headed up the steep winding road into the forest nearby. There were plenty of private spots up there.

I turned off on a trail and drove as far as the road went. Then we unloaded the food and a blanket, and went up the trail on foot.

We veered off the trail, and found this gorgeous little grassy meadow enclosed by trees. The summer rains had come, and there were purple and yellow flowers everywhere.

I lay the blanket over the grass, and Jonah unloaded the bags onto the ground.

I lay on my back, and the sun was blinding overhead. I closed my eyes, basking in it. Jonah lay on his back next to me.

It didn't take long before I was starting to sweat. I unbuttoned the top of my dress and laid it open, my breasts bared. Then I undid the lower buttons one by one, working my way down to the hem. I threw the skirt open. Then I moved my arms up and put my hands under my head.

Jonah turned toward me and propped his head up on his arm. I felt his shadow cover my eyes, so I opened them. His eyes were fixed on my breasts. He was staring at them intently, almost like a scientist or something, studying them.

He took his free arm and moved it toward me. Then he stopped in mid-air, just hanging there.

My nipples started to contract and tingle. He moved his index finger slightly back and forth, and I swear, my nipple could feel him touching it, squeezing the pulsations right through my clitoris, which started to throb.

"God, Jonah, how do you do that?" I murmured.

Then he moved his hand slowly toward me again, his eyes still riveted on my breasts.

He took my nipple between his thumb and forefinger and rolled it gently back and forth. With every twist, sparks were flying through my clit, into my labia and vagina.

Then he began to move his face toward me in slow motion. His hair brushed my chest as he took the other nipple in his mouth and moved his tongue around it, sucking it in. My breathing was deep and full, following the rhythms he was making. His thumb and finger increased their pressure to match the sucking of his mouth.

I moaned, feeling the pleasure streaming out of me into him.

He hadn't even touched my clit yet, but it was pounding with the same exquisite pulsations as my nipples.

I took my hand from under my head and moved it down the ravine between our bodies, fumbling along his zipper, searching for his mound. My arms weren't that long, and I found the tip, but I couldn't reach the full body I wanted to grasp.

He adjusted his hips upward so I could reach. I pressed my hand over the mass under his pants, fumbled to unlatch them, pulled the zipper down, careful not to catch anything, and thrust my hand inside.

When I closed it around his thick wand, he moved his hand down to stroke the hair over my pubic mound, working down further and further into the jelly spot and the wet cave behind it.

I grasped his cock, squeezing and moving up and down, and the passion was streaming between us.

He moved his pelvis closer, thrusting toward my hand, and drew his mouth up my chest and neck to my mouth. His tongue plunged inside as he thrust forward with his pelvis, making a double assault.

I felt the overwhelming ecstasy as his power moved into me, trampling everything in its path. The energy overran me in wave after wave, his pelvis jerking closer and closer until the tip of his want was pushed against my opening. It continued its rhythm, moving deeper with each parry, until it was buried up to the hilt, pressing against every nerve ending of my long, slick hallway.

His hand went to my nipple again, squeezing it hard while his penis pounded. His tongue was twisting in my mouth, and every inch of me was filled with him. The sensation peaked, and I was blob of quivering, paralyzed flesh, beaten and won all at the same time. Undone.

He wailed like a tortured creature, the sound erupting without warning, loath to be contained. Then he was quiet.

We rolled to the side, and I watched his face doing little contortions and then relaxing. He licked his lips, pursed them, blinked his closed eyes.

Finally, he opened them, and we stared, face to face.

After a time, I asked quietly, "What do you do when you're not with me?"

He took his time answering. 

"I dunno. Stuff."

Silence.

"Jonah, I'm not your mother."

"I know."

I waited for an eon, looking at his face.

Finally, he volunteered, "Walk."

"Walk? Where?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he leaned up and extricated his limbs from mine. He pulled his pants off. Then he sat with his knees up and his legs spread, his forearms resting on them, his balls dangling between them. Somehow, I could see an imaginary cigarette between his middle fingers. It would have completed the picture.

Only, knowing my son and his cronies, it was probably a joint. And it was between his thumb and first finger. It suddenly occurred to me that that was just the way he held my nipple. I don't know why.

I sat up too. It was obvious that pushing him would only make it take longer. So I backed off.

I got some bread out and put mustard and cheese and turkey and lettuce on it. I handed him one. Then I took a bite of the other.

We sat silently, chewing. Birds were chirping I the trees, sometimes flitting from one branch to another. Some insect was buzzing quite loudly, and wind gusts moved through the trees and the grass now and then. When I stopped to listen, I realized the meadow wasn't silent at all. In fact, it was very noisy, and busy with life.

I sat listening. Then I said to Jonah, "Hear that?"

"Yeah."

Yeah. Of course he did.

Luckily, the sun had moved behind the top of a nearby tree, so we didn't have to move to get shade while we ate our lunch. I offered him a choice of the apples and oranges I had brought, and he closed his long fingers over three oranges and an apple.

Growing boy!

"You want another sandwich?" I thought I'd better ask.

"Yeah."

So I took a bite out of my apple and made him another one. Then I pulled out the bag of cookies and opened it to display its contents. I handed him a liter of water, and he drank half of it in one long gulp.

Mental note. Buy more food.

I took two cookies - there was a reason I still had a trim figure - and he finished off the package.

We packed up the trash and rolled up the blanket. I buttoned up my dress and he put his pants on.

"Let's walk," he said.

So we hiked back to the trail, deposited our bundles under a tree, and followed the dirt path pretty far back into the hills. It was a beautiful trail, and we saw everything from evergreens to cottonwood to mesquite and cactus.

We rested on a fallen tree, and Jonah kissed me, taking his time to explore all the tastes and textures of my mouth. It was fun just to make out for a while.

He adjusted his pants, and I stopped kissing and looked at him.

"Uncomfortable?" I asked. He nodded.

"You want to..."

"Unh-unh," he shook his head. Then he went back to kissing me.

The breeze was starting to cool off and the sun was going down.

"We better get back, hunh."

"Yeah."

"Jonah. Thanks for the walk."

He gave me his little half-smile.



My Son's Best Friend Ch. 07



The phone rang. It was Margaret.

"Hi!"

I think I'd forgotten I had a best friend. I think she'd been out of town or something. God, the last time I'd seen her had been on another planet!

"Hi!

"Yeah, I'm fine - good. I'm good.

"...not much. Not much. How about you?

"Un-hunh. Uh-hunh. Uh-hunh. Yeah, we should definitely do that. Definitely. Okay. Okay. 'Bye."

I hung up the phone and sank into a chair. Oh God! This wasn't so easy. I wanted to tell her. I didn't want to tell her. Oh God!

Jonah came in from the living-room. He went behind my chair and crossed his arms over my chest, kissing my hair.

I jumped up, knocking my head into his tooth.

"Ow!"

"Ow!"

"Ow!"

"Ow!"

We were both in pain, me rubbing my head, him holding his tooth.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" I exclaimed. "I'm sorry!"

He just looked at me.

I went to the freezer for an ice cube, wrapped it in a cloth, and put it on my head.

"Ow. Ow...Are you okay?" I asked.

He nodded, still holding his tooth.

"You want some ice?"

He shook his head.

I sank down into the chair again, and the tears welled up. Ow! My head really hurt bad!

I sat there crying, and Jonah just kind of stared, befuddled.

"I'll be okay," I managed to utter. "Go on." I motioned him back to the living-room.

He left, and I felt so sad. What was I going to do? What was I going to tell Margaret? Jonah was becoming a fixture in my life now. He was over all the time - spent the night most nights. 

We were living in this little, safe bubble, and most of the time, the rest of the world wasn't even there. Paul was getting used to being with us, and we were getting used to being around him, and it was working - better than I had ever thought possible!

I really didn't think anyone suspected anything. We were living quiet little lives, out of the view, below the radar.

But Margaret was a true friend. I didn't want to lie to her. But she also had some prudish attitudes, and I didn't think she would understand this.

Besides, telling her meant the circle was growing, and I didn't like that idea. It wasn't safe. The more people who knew, the easier something might leak out.

I don't know what I was so afraid of, but some part of me was terrified of being "found out".

There was no indication that there was any problem with Jonah's mother, yet in her case, I found myself always waiting on some level for the other shoe to drop.

And even with Paul, I was careful to try to give him time alone with Jonah and make sure his feathers weren't getting ruffled over anything. Sometimes I felt like it was all a perilous balancing act.

I didn't know what I wanted to tell Margaret. She'd be asking stupid grown-up questions, and I had nothing to offer her in that regard. Yes, I loved Jonah. Yes, this was more than just a fling. 

But, where was it going? I hadn't a clue. Jonah didn't exactly have a lot of high aspirations and goals in his life. He seemed to be pretty much just floating along, and so far I had been content to float along with him.

I was already grown up, damn it! Why did I need to justify myself to anybody? I'd raised a kid, built a house, rebuilt my life from a divorce! I had interests! I had my garden, I read books, for God's sake! - And not just fluffy little novels. I read history, biographies, science. I knew stuff!

I pushed my breath out in a huff. What was I doing, having this imaginary argument? There was no one here but me, myself, and I, and the three certainly had a lot to say to each-other. But I'm not sure we were getting anywhere.

I'd tell her. I never could keep a secret from her. And I didn't really want to. It was too lonely that way. I'd tell her. And somehow I'd survive it.

Jonah came back in the room.

"Your show over?" I asked him.

"Yeah."

He took my hand and led me into the bedroom. He put his arms around me, pressing me gently to his chest.

I put my head down, and he kissed near where the sore was, tiny little wispy kisses. I closed my eyes, and we swayed from side to side, dancing to noiseless music.

We lay on the bed, and he kissed me softly all over my face, my neck. Unbuttoning my shirt, he kissed down my chest, my breasts, my not-so-firm-any-more belly. Then he went to my feet and kissed my toes, my instep, my ankles. My calves, the hollow of my knees, my thighs, pushing my skirt up. 

He peeled off his clothes and pulled mine off, and crouched between my legs, nibbling all the fleshy folds, tickling my clit with the tip of his tongue, then thrusting it into my opening, closing his mouth over it all, and sucking.

His hands meandered back up my legs, my hips, my belly, my sides, till he reached my breasts, still sucking my cunt. There was an advantage to having long arms! Cupping them from the sides, his hands glided over them toward the middle, then grasped the nipples. The streams were flowing, and I smiled at the smacking noises his mouth was making. I knew he was enjoying himself.

He lifted his body up over mine and covered me, pushing his cock inside, kissing my mouth, sharing all the musty flavor of where he had just been.

His tongue pushed as deep as his cock, and he began the long, slow trek up the hill, pumping, pumping, pumping his hips; building gradually, closer, closer to the top. I liked this gentle cadence, taking me smoothly and tenderly where I wanted to go.

The orgasm built and built and built until it melted over us like warm honey, almost seamless, seeping into all the rough and craggy places.

"It's right," I thought to myself. "This is so right. It's so right for us to be together...

"Margaret will see that. Surely, she'll see..." 



My Son's Best Friend Ch. 08



Now that Jonah was practically living with us, I saw that he not only watched TV a lot, but also liked to play video games. Occasionally, he and Paul would go find somewhere to dribble a basketball, or take their skateboards to the skate park in town. Just normal kid stuff. I knew he was young. That was okay with me. 

Sometimes he would go home for a while. Sometimes, he would disappear for hours or days without any explanation about where he had been or what he was doing. 

I didn't have a lot of prejudices about what he or anyone else should do with their life. In my opinion, life was to be enjoyed, if at all possible, and nobody should do something they hated just for money. There was always a way to make ends meet.

Paul's job wasn't any great shakes, but he liked the other people at the store where he worked, included them in his social life as well. It was a small town, and that meant things like work and play weren't so segregated as in the city. There was a casual and personal atmosphere to most businesses in town, and I liked that.

There was a small university here, so that meant lots of young people; and there was a definitely liberal, hippie vibe in the area; lots of alternative-type people around, living alternative lifestyles to some degree or the other.

However, I had noticed that even the alternative types were sometimes more conventional in their thinking than you might expect, plus there was a conservative NRA rancher influence.

Margaret sort of straddled both spheres. She ran a title company, so anyone who bought or leased land had to go to her. She had a nose for business that I had never had, and I admired that. She had a heart of gold, and she had gone through a divorce about the same time I did, so we had cried on each-other's shoulder many times.

****

I felt really strange walking downtown to meet her for lunch. I had had to go there to get groceries since I had been seeing Jonah, but I had done it as fast as possible, avoiding contact, with the briefest of greetings to anyone who was familiar.

I suddenly felt very self-conscious. I was aware of how everyone who passed me probably saw me. Middle-aged; no man; unsophisticated; needs a make-over; needs a hairstyle; aloof; self-absorbed.

I reached the restaurant, and peeked behind the arch to see that Margaret already had a table. I hated schedules. I knew she only had so long for lunch, but I just hated having to be somewhere at any certain time.

I slipped into the seat opposite her and smiled my greeting.

"Margaret! You look great!"

She did, too. Not a hair out of place, her make-up subtle but flattering, wearing just the right skirt and jacket, fashionable but not overdone. I felt so dowdy next to her.

"Jean," she looked into my eyes. "It's such a relief to see you. You're a breath of fresh air - so free and easy. I envy you! I wish I could go braless."

Well, that's why we were friends.

"I attended that course in the city, and the people there were so stuffy and boring. I mean, I like my work, but the profession doesn't exactly attract fun and carefree people, if you know what I mean. I'm so glad to be home!

"So what's been happening since I left?"

"Uh, when did you leave? I don't remember."

She laughed at me then. "Jean, you're so wild. I wish I could forget what day - or month, or year - it was now and then! I really need you to take the taste of that workshop out of my mouth."

Her eyes sparkled at me, and I was reminded of how much I loved this woman.

I chortled, grinning a little self-consciously. I hadn't necessarily planned on telling her here. I had thought maybe I would just make a date for a more private visit. But this opening was too good to pass up. Carpe diem!

"Well...I don't know that much of interest has been happening here. At least, I haven't heard of anything. But then I haven't been paying much attention, because I've sort of been - um - caught up in my own private...little...paradise."

Her eyes got brighter and she raised her eyebrows, smiling conspiratorially. "Tell me more!"

"Well, I've, um, sort of met someone."

Her delight for me was genuine, and I had her rapt and hungry attention.

"But I need you to hear this as confidential, because I'm really feeling the need to keep it discreet right now."

She was intrigued, and I knew I was just making her more curious, but I had to hedge my bet before I could tell her the details.

"Of course. You know me, Jean. I'm only a gossip when it's somebody I'm not close to! I can keep secrets."

She looked at me with bated breath. "Who is this hunk that can't be known to the general public?"

I closed my eyes. Oh God. I can't tell her yet.

"Well, before I tell you who, I just want to tell you a little bit about what he's like, why we're together."

"Is it someone I know?" she asked suddenly, and I could see the list of eligible men in town reeling through her brain.

"Margaret, I need you to listen to me. Really listen. I'll answer all your questions in time, but I need you to give me some space here. This is...big for me."

She calmed down a little then, backed off, got silent.

"This is...well, it's kind of crazy and it's not something I ever imagined happening to me, or for me, and it's not your typical scenario, and it's really wonderful, and scary at times, and just about the most amazing sex I've ever had, and like the sweetest gentlest man I've ever met - he has this gift - it's like, so intuitive; and we're really different in certain ways, but really connected in other ways, and Paul's okay with me seeing him, but..."

I stopped there.

Margaret couldn't help herself. "Is he - married?"

"No," I shook my head.

"What, then?"

"He's, like..."

"Yes?"

"...really...young."

"Young? How young? Thirties? Twenties?"

"Like...really young."

Her eyes widened. "Not...illegal young?"

"No, not illegal young, but, just, like, barely not."

We sat staring at each-other. I held my breath, waiting for it to sink in.

She swallowed hard, and the wait person stepped up to the table, stumbling all over herself with her apology that we had had to wait so long to be served. She plunked two plates down in front of us and rushed off.

"I hope you don't mind, Jean. I ordered you crab cakes. You like those, and I knew you'd be late as usual, and I do have to get back by 1:00."

I looked down at the food like it was some strange foreign body invading my universe. I wasn't hungry.

"Thanks."

She picked up her fork and began to eat with that dainty, aristocratic way she had. Being classy came so easily to her. Never pretentious, just naturally poised, like she was born that way, or something.

I sat with my hands folded in my lap. 

She was savoring her food, taking her time. I usually attacked mine with all the decorum of a camel, but today it just sat in front of me.

She chewed slowly and carefully, waiting until her mouth was empty and taking a sip of water before she spoke. Then she opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She closed it again. Then she continued to work her way across her plate.

Finally, she seemed to have composed something she felt was appropriate to say.

"Is this safe for you?"

"Safe?"

"Yes. Safe - emotionally, mentally. You seem so anxious, and sort of, well, thrown off-center. Are you okay?"

"Well, it's been a bit of a roller coaster ride, and it's definitely stretching me out of my comfort zone, but, well, there's something about it that has made me feel really good, and alive and - happy. It's more right than anything that has happened to me in a long time, and I...I think I have a pretty good grasp of the risks. I - I think the benefits outweigh the liabilities."

There! I had put it into the terms in which she was conversant.

"Well, that's important," she allowed.

"Margaret, I don't ask you to understand what I'm doing. I'm just asking you to trust me, and to keep my confidence. Can you do that?"

"Yes, of course, Jean. It's not like I have any reason to tell anyone your business. I'm just a little worried about you."

I looked into her eyes then. "Try not to be, okay? I need you, Margaret. I need your support and I need your caring, but you can't find the answers for my life. Only I can do that."

"I know, Jean. I just don't want you to get hurt."

I laughed quietly at that. "Margaret, you know as well as I do that nothing worth having in life comes without its price."

"Well, just don't sign on the dotted line before you know what that is."

"I'll try not to."

Margaret glanced at her watch, and exclaimed, "Oh, it's five till! I've just got time to get back!"

"Let me get the check," I offered.

"But you didn't even eat!"

"That's okay. I'll take it home. You go on. I'll get it."

"Thanks, love." She put her hands on my shoulders and kissed the air on both sides of my cheeks. "You know I love you."

I kissed back and nodded. "Have a good afternoon."

She whisked out of the restaurant, and I took my time collecting a take-home box and paying the bill. The wait person was still harried, so I just waited until she found time to take my money, and assured her that her apology was unnecessary.

It felt right to leave things where they were at this point. I hadn't told her who, and she hadn't asked. We'd save that for another time, after she'd had a while to get used to the idea.

****

I couldn't wait to get home to the safety of my country haven. I hoped Jonah was there and Paul wasn't.

When I pulled up, my garden caught my attention. I got out and wandered into it. It was so green and growing wildly now, producing lots of vegetables for our meals, and looking vibrant and cheerful. I felt immediately soothed.

I looked for Jonah, but the house was empty. He never left a note or anything. He gave me a lot of practice with letting go and letting things be.

I walked back into the garden and sat on the bench, grazing across my breasts, stroking my arms, feeling the warmth around my heart. It was because of Jonah. What I had with him had given me the courage to be honest with Margaret today, to find the words to tell her my truth. I was grateful. I felt good about myself.

And my body felt wonderful, full, sensuous. I wished Jonah was here to take advantage of it. But I just sat and enjoyed it myself. And the pleasant sensations emanating from my breasts made me want more.

So I spread my legs wide and smoothed my fingers over the wet opening. I stared at the green leaves and winding stems of the squash plants, looked at the little baby peppers dangling from their vines, and felt all the sprouting, shooting life surrounding me. I stroked with a firm and steady pace, feeling the rumbling just below the surface increasing, intensifying. I brought it close to release, then slowed, over and over, feeling deeper and fuller every time.

A dark, billowing cloud moved suddenly over the sun and thundered, lightening flashing on the mountain in the distance. I rubbed faster, matching the feeling of the thunder, letting it roll into me, into my cunt and out again. The rain hit suddenly, in big wet splotches, landing on my face, my bare arms and legs, and all the big and little leaves waving in the sudden gust of wind.

I rubbed harder, and my body jerked in the convulsion of rhapsody, and a gush of liquid spilled out, running over the bench and onto the ground. I looked at it in wonder.

Wow! That felt fantastic! I watered the garden! I watered the garden!

I don't know why that made me so happy, but it did. It made me feel like part of things. Like I wasn't separate from the garden. It was part of me and I was part of it, and it happily received the stream from my body!

I had never done that before. I knew it wasn't pee. It didn't smell, it wasn't colored. I didn't know I could do that!

The rain was turning into a downpour and it was pretty cold, beating on my skin, so I hurried into the house. I wrapped up in a big towel and crouched on the couch, watching the storm out the picture window. The sky was completely overcast, and the lightening and thunder went on and on, bringing hail at one point. It was awesome.

Where was Jonah? I liked to think he was watching the storm too. In fact, I was sure he was.



My Son's Best Friend Ch. 09



He didn't show up for another day. Then he just appeared, sauntered into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. He popped the cap with the opener, leaned against the counter and took a swig. At least Paul was the one who kept the beer stocked. I didn't drink it, and I didn't want to have to buy it, so Paul got his friend from work to make the purchase. 

I was happy he was back. I loved the earthy smell he brought into the room, slouched there with his dirty khakis and grimy T-shirt. I guessed he'd done some hiking.

"Did you see that storm the other day?" I asked.

"I was out in it."

"Really?"

I tried to picture it. I liked the rain, but I preferred to watch it from a window. 

"Were you in the lightening?"

"Yeah. That's the best part."

I laughed a little self-consciously. He was certainly more daring than I. Some might say foolish.

"There's nothing like being in the middle of a downpour, lightening flashing all around you.. It's like you're lost, forsaken. It's surreal."

I wanted to hug him, but for some reason I felt kind of shy and hesitant. Sometimes I didn't know who he was, what he wanted, how he would respond. So I just stood across from him, my arms folded.

He went into the living-room, and I followed him. Paul was at work. Maybe we could watch something together.

I wanted to tell him about Margaret, that we'd had lunch together. But what would that even mean to him? It mattered to me, but it didn't matter to him.

I wanted to tell him about the experience I'd had in the garden, but I needed the right setting for that. The right feeling. So I said nothing.

He sat on the couch, drinking his beer and looking out the window. I sat next to him.

"I watched the storm, right out this window. It was awesome.

"I was out in the garden when it started. Big raindrops, splatting on my arms.

"I was...watering the garden."

He put his arm around me and pulled me close. His hand absentmindedly wandered over my arm, my side, my thigh. He scratched with his fingernails along the material of my dress. I put my legs up and to the side on the couch. He pulled the material of the dress up, gently scratching the skin of my upper thigh. It started to feel warm. It was like striking a match.

But I let the feeling simmer, enjoying it, relaxing into it. I rubbed the khaki fabric over his thigh, moving toward the inside, curling my hand around underneath. His legs were splayed, the way guys sit, and I worked the inside of his thigh, moving from the knee up to the hollow of the joint.

I could see his erection taking form beneath the tent of material at his crotch. I moved my hand up next to it, rubbing under the tender balls, reaching to press on the soft skin behind them. Then I moved up over his balls, kneading them gently, and pressed on the spongy form perched on top.

I pulled the metal tab down slowly, then put my hand in, flesh connecting with flesh. It was warm, soft, sweaty, dank, earthy. I licked my hand and grasped his penis, making sure to get it good and slimy, squeezing and pulling gently toward the tip. As I moved up and down, I could feel it tightening and hardening.

I smoothed the closure of his pants open and bent over him, licking the tip with my tongue in a circular motion. My hand burrowed into the tangle of hair that surrounded it. Holding it at the base, I closed my mouth over it, moving downward and drawing upward, sucking it like a popsicle.

His body tensed, and he pushed his pelvis toward me, seeking more.

I was turned over him, my hip jutted into the air, and he gripped my ass and pulled it toward him. He grasped tighter at intervals, as I sucked harder and moved faster up and down his shaft. He grabbed my shoulder, holding me in a vice-grip as the force mounted, and he groaned, letting it out in staccato calls. His moans repeated over and over until he had drained them, and I sat up and swallowed the milk hardly won.

His hand moved over my ass in mindless circles, releasing the residual energy. His breath came in panting beats.

He offered to do me, but I felt satisfied for the moment. I lay my head in his lap and stared out the window.

"You know the other day, when the storm came?" He nodded.

"I was out in the garden, thinking about you, wishing you were here. I started touching myself, sitting on the bench. The garden looked so beautiful, and everything was growing and feeling so alive. I took a really long time, building up the pleasure, then backing off again, and I came when the first thunder roared. And this liquid spilled out of me and went into the ground below me, and it felt so good. It was amazing.

"Now I know how you must feel when you ejaculate. I didn't know I could do that."

Jonah smiled at me. Wow, a real smile.

"Did you know women could do that?" I asked.

He shook his head. 

"It felt, like, way better than you would think. I don't know why, but it did.

"Nobody ever told me about that. I bet it's in a book somewhere. I should look sometime."

He listened quietly. He was calm, still, not going anywhere. I felt like I could tell him anything.

"I saw my friend for lunch that day. I told her about us. Well, I didn't tell her your name. I just told her I was seeing someone - younger. I think she was pretty shocked, but she promised to keep my secret. You don't mind me telling her, do you?"

He shrugged. I knew he wouldn't.

"Do you...ever tell your mother anything? Sometimes I worry that she might get really upset with me if she knew."

"My mother lost the right to know anything about me a long time ago. I told you. She doesn't ask, I don't tell her."

"But, that must be pretty hard for you, to live in the same house with her like that."

"I don't live in the same house."

"Well, but, don't you see her sometimes?"

"She fixes food and leaves it in the kitchen. Sometimes we cross paths."

"Do you...love her?"

"No."

Well, there it was. What had she done to him?

"Why?"

"Why do you want to know?" He was getting a little prickly.

"I'm sorry. I guess it's none of my business. I just...wondered."

"It doesn't matter."

"I'm sorry, Jonah. I'm really sorry for whatever she did - or - didn't do. You don't have to tell me. But if you ever want to talk about it, I would listen." 

We were silent then, and I tried to put my mind on happier things. Why stir up his pain? Sometimes I was just a little too nosy.

The sky was partly overcast, and I could see thunderclouds building up in the west.

"Maybe we'll get another storm today."

He didn't answer. I got quiet then.

After a while, we found a movie to watch. It was pretty good.

Then the storm came.



My Son's Best Friend Ch. 10



Paul brought a girl home. Her name was Kira. She attended the college in town. She was from Portland.

Pretty, smiling, blonde. He always picked sort of generic pretty ones.

His elbow was angled around her neck, and I felt a little sorry for her. Paul was nice enough, but rather immature and insensitive when it came to women. I knew he'd grow up eventually, but it seemed like it would take a while.

Jonah, on the other hand, had a kind of maturity beyond his years. I'm not quite sure how he and Paul had ended up being friends, but I suspected that part of it was simply the fact that there weren't that many kids to choose from around here.

She joined the boys in their nightly ritual of TV watching and beer drinking. I could hear her feminine voice and laugh coming from the living-room now and then.

Paul took her to his bedroom earlier than he usually turned in, and Jonah joined me in my room, where I was reading in bed. For some reason, the beer on his breath smelled stronger than usual, and it bothered me a little bit.

A loud bump came from Paul's room across the hall, then a crash, muffled voices, and laughter. I didn't know what had happened, but if they were laughing, I figured it was probably okay.

Then there were some yelping and whooping noises, and more bumping. They were conducting quite a circus in there.

I didn't know for sure, but I suspected that Paul was sending a little payback for all the nights Jonah and I had been cloistered away together in my room. Well, he was certainly due. I didn't begrudge him some entertainment. Kira was quite a live wire, and Jonah and I looked at each-other and laughed.

He leaned over me and kissed my mouth. The playful, amorous vibes floating in the airwaves were turning us on, so we took advantage of it and joined in. A house of love, tonight - or lust. Maybe both. Maybe just lust. Good enough.

He moved in closer, his tongue getting more emphatic, his hand moving to my breast. Just the thought that Paul and Kira were kissing, making love, ignited a warm flame in my bowels and pushed me further into the inviting sensations. 

My mind kept picturing Paul touching Kira, and it made the movements Jonah was doing doubly arousing. My body was undulating in a snake-like motion, rubbing up against Jonah, pulling off his clothes, exposing my skin to his hands as I tugged impatiently at mine. The beer on his breath was intoxicating me now, and I sucked his tongue, breathing the vapors in deeply.

"Fuck me, Jonah," I pleaded. And in my ear, I could hear Kira saying, "Fuck me, Paul."

So he entered me and began pumping, and I could see the double machinery, like two oil wells side by side, Paul and Jonah, dipping deeper, deeper, deeper into the earth.

I heard low masculine sounds which I knew were Paul, and Kira yelled then, her uninhibited banshee cry urging me on to my own release, which came quickly and suddenly. Then Jonah cried out, and we were complete.

We were satisfied and satiated, and we rolled over to snooze until morning.

****

Kira and I met early over the coffee pot.

"Do you have class this morning?"

"Yeah, I've gotta rouse Paul, or I'm gonna be late."

"That's not so easy to do. He has an afternoon job for just that reason."

I looked at her, knowing I needed to take her into my confidence. She was young and liberal. I figured she'd understand.

So I said casually, woman to woman, "Kira, nobody really knows about Jonah and me. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't mention it to anyone."

I didn't figure she ran in any of the same circles I did, but in this town, it didn't take much for connections to be made, even inadvertently - especially inadvertently.

"Sure, Mrs. Welsh," she said agreeably.

"Oh God, please don't call me that. I'm Jean."

I put my hand out and she took it.

"Kira."

"Yes, I know. A very pretty name."

"Thanks."

She turned toward Paul's bedroom. "I better go blast him out of bed."

"Yeah. Hey, Kira, you're welcome here any time."

"Thanks. I'll see ya'."

****

Margaret called again that day. She had waited a respectable few days, but she'd had time to realize I hadn't given her all the information on our lunch date, and wanted to complete her score card.

"Let's meet somewhere more private," I suggested, giving her the indication I knew she was hoping for. "That'll be perfect. See you then."

I hung up the phone, feeling pretty confident. At least the cat was out of the proverbial bag now - though I wasn't sure what damage its claws might do.

Jonah and I headed out the door in the evening at the same time.

"Going home?" I queried.

"Yeah."

He kissed me good-bye this time. I looked into his green eyes. He was so beautiful.

"I love you. See you."

****

I arrived at Margaret's sweet little faux log cottage about sunset. The colors in the sky were gorgeous, really brilliant, and her house looked so perfect against them. Being up on this hill reminded me of everything that made me want to live in this area. It was a magical place.

She ushered me into her small but meticulously appointed living-room, and the sunset tour de force was framed in its huge picture window. We sat at the tiny round table with its high wicker back chairs and served tea from her dainty china tea set. She had made delicate cookie wafers to go with the tea. 

I always loved to visit Margaret at home. It was as nice as going out, but more comfortable and relaxed. She wore a lovely caftan that was as chic as a party gown, and as homey as a bathrobe. I was comfortable, as usual, in my cotton gingham dress, but not nearly so fashionable. Oh well. She never seemed to care.

We kissed and exchanged pleasantries. Then it was time to get down to business. Women's business.

"Paul brought a girl home the other night," I announced.

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. It's the first one I've seen for quite a while. He doesn't know her that well - she goes to the university - but I figure if he's bringing her to the house, it means something. I'm not sure what, but something."

"What's she like?"

"Well, her name's Kira. She's from Portland. She's pretty, in that generic blonde way Paul always finds attractive. I can't really tell much about her yet...

"She's a little wild and crazy - they were kinda noisy after they went to bed, if you know what I mean."

Margaret smiled, piqued, but restrained. She didn't need to know Jonah had been there too.

Then we were ready to move on to the next subject, so I stopped to consider what I wanted to say.

"So...I guess you're wondering who my mystery man is..."

I did that on purpose. He was still a lot boy, too, but it sounded better this way.

Margaret was attentive.

"Well, it's Jonah."

"Jonah?" she asked, and I could see the wheels turning in her memory banks, trying to locate him.

"Yeah. He's...Paul's friend."

"That Jonah?"

How many Jonahs did she know? 

Margaret and I always talked on the phone or got together, just the two of us, so she didn't really know Paul firsthand. She just heard about him, and his friends, from me. She had probably seen him and Jonah around town occasionally - knew what they looked like - but that was about it.

"Jean..." she paused. "This is a little hard for me to imagine."

"Margaret, I know it seems crazy. I never would have predicted it. I wasn't looking for it. It was just there one day, and I acted on it. And then I got really scared, and I backed off; but it wouldn't go away. And what was so amazing was that he wanted it as much as I did. And I know it's crazy, but in ways we're really compatible..."

Margaret scoffed mildly. "Of course he wanted it."

"Margaret, it's not like that. I mean, it is - what red-blooded boy doesn't want it - but it's more than that. So much more."

I was feeling a little frustrated. I wanted her to understand. I wanted her to realize. I couldn't afford to be seen by her the way everyone else would see me if they knew. They were wrong!

"Margaret...please don't tell me all the things I've been telling myself for two months! Jonah is a real person. He's not just a kid. I'm not just a middle-aged woman. We're two people relating to each-other, negotiating our relationship the way any two people negotiate a relationship. He has a lot of wonderful qualities. He's a flesh and blood person with feelings, opinions, flaws, gifts, insights, bad habits - just like any other man! And our relationship deserves respect just like any other relationship!" 

I had moved from defense to offense, and Margaret got it.

"I'm sorry, Jean. You're right. I can see you've been doing a lot of thinking about this. You're the one living it. I made judgments about it without really knowing the story.

"If you tell me that this is a real relationship, then I believe you. But if it's a real relationship, then how long are you going to cover it up?"

I stopped at that. It was a good question. And I suddenly had the answer.

"You know, Margaret, you're absolutely right. If this is a real relationship, it's going to have to come out eventually. And why shouldn't it? I've been walking around, so afraid of people finding out. But if my conscience is clear, what do I have to worry about?

"At first, I didn't want people to know, because what we were doing really was sort of the stereotype: it was the scandalous affair everyone would have thought it was. But it's not any more. It's turning into something serious, even if we don't know where it's going, and it's the sort of thing that belongs in the open.

"After all, sex is a private matter anyway, so there's no reason to go broadcasting that to people. But relationships are part of the social fabric, and I think there's a place there for Jonah and me.

"I mean, it's not like I'm ready to go announce it to everybody, but I can see that as we go along, it's just going to be a matter of time before it becomes known.

"Having you and Paul know is the first couple steps. Jonah's mother - she's the next. And I don't know what to think about her because Jonah is pretty much estranged from her, and I don't really know what kind of person she is, but she might be the kind to cause trouble. Jonah's not much help in her department. He's pretty closed off to her."

"Yeah, she's not the friendly sort."

"You know her?"

"She came to me when she bought her house. And then she bought a piece of land a few years later."

"Jonah would hardly give her the time of day, the way he talks about her. I don't know what she did to him, but there's something there. He won't tell me, and I don't want to open a can of worms or anything. I just want to figure out the best way for her to find out about us - if there is one."

"Well, I sure think you'd be courting trouble if you went to talk to her yourself. At this point, it's Jonah's business to tell her - not yours."

"Oh, there's no way I would do that. I guess I'm just gonna have to tread water for a while. Maybe something will come along at the right time."

"I don't envy you this dilemma," Margaret sympathized.

I hurried to correct her. "Margaret, it's not that bad. It's really good. Jonah is... intriguing... sensitive... fascinating. Different from anyone I've ever known. Getting to know him is like going down this well that just keeps getting deeper and deeper. He's really...healed something in me that's been broken ever since Paul's dad left..."

"Wow Jean, that's wonderful."

"Yeah, it is." I smiled at her, and she smiled back.

I yawned then.

"Wow, I'm tired. I think I need to go home. Hey, we haven't talked about you at all. What did you do on your trip?"

Margaret deferred, "Oh, nothing that interesting. It can wait. We'll talk soon."

I collected my shawl and threw it over my shoulders before I went out.

Margaret's parting wave was like a footnote in my mind, because I was suddenly remembering the last time I had thrown a knitted wrap over my shoulders against the cool night air.

Ahhh...that had been a night!



My Son's Best Friend Ch. 11



Paul brought Kira back for the weekend, and Jonah was gone, so I got a taste of what it had been like for Paul all these weeks. They were all over each-other, and it made me miss Jonah. Even we weren't that indiscreet, but the vibes were there whether we displayed then openly or not. 

I knew better than to call him and try to get him to come back. Jonah had his own rhythms, and he didn't respond favorably to coercion. He would come back when he was ready to come back.

Paul and Kira were making out on the sofa, and I had to go in my bedroom to satisfy the desires they were stirring in me. Oh well, it felt pretty good to have all this sex in the air. If I let myself, I could enjoy what Paul and Kira were doing without letting it make me unhappy.

* * * *

Jonah came back on Monday as Paul and Kira left.

"I missed you!" I exclaimed, hugging him. Then I kissed him. I took his hand and led him into the house.

"So! What do you want to do?"

He looked at me a little strangely. I wasn't usually this forward, but, what the heck, I was feeling free, and a little giddy.

"I dunno."

"Don't give me that! Let's do something! Let's go somewhere!"

"What?"

"Let's - go somewhere."

"Like where?"

"I don't know. Don't you and Paul go places sometimes? Don't you do things?"

"Sometimes we go to the coffee shop," he offered.

"The coffee shop. Hmmm. No, not ready for that. What else?"

"Movies. The video store. The sports store."

"No. No. And no..."

Then I had it. Camping! "How about camping? You wanna go camping?"

"Well, yeah, we could go camping."

"You like to camp, right?"

"Yeah."

"Let's go! Okay?"

"Okay."

All of his answers took twice as long to give as my questions, but that was okay. He could be him, and I could still be me - I was beginning to realize.

We decided to go to the Hot Springs Trail, which was quite a hike in, so we needed to pack for at least four or five days. I was excited. This was going to be fun!

I made food plans, got out sleeping bags, tent, water purifier, backpacking frames - the whole works. We spent most of the day preparing and packing. Then I left Paul a note. I was taking the car for the week, so he'd have to use his motorcycle - or get rides from Kira.

The drive took several hours, but it was a gorgeous view. First we took the highway into some really pretty rolling hills. They didn't have any trees on them, and I always loved the way they had this dusky worn tapestry color to them. 

Then we took this winding dirt road up a dry mountainside, that doubled back so you could see the grassy green ranches of the little town below it. Finally, the road meandered along a canyon with a river at its bottom, and then plunged down to end near the river.

We were already losing light when we arrived, so we set up camp for the night. We hadn't figured we'd be able to hike to the hot springs today. We'd do it tomorrow.

After a dinner of cold cuts and bread, Jonah coaxed a few twigs into flame, and we added some small dry juniper logs to it. We sat, just watching the fire, and I felt so happy and content. 

This was the place to be with Jonah. It was his home more than any other place I knew of. He belonged out here with the breezes and the treeses; the running river, the stones, the grasses. They spoke his language - the lollygagging, lingering, lazy language of just being.

Out here, we didn't have to do anything to belong. We could do whatever we wanted, and no one would give a care, write it up in the newspaper, send us a bill for it, or stamp it approved for audiences over the age of 13.

It's amazing how long you can watch fire. It's this constantly changing show that's more riveting than anything I've ever seen on TV. The flames seem to dance and fly and cower and chase each-other, and disappear, and reappear. It's like this whole drama, that never stops. They say there are spirits that live in fire called salamanders, and watching the flames leap all over the place, I could almost see them in there.

Then, when the flames die down and you don't add any more wood, the hot coals and embers take on this whole other life, different from the fire, but related. They sparkle and pulse, and get redder, and then blacker, and you can take almost as long watching them as you did the fire, because they take a really long time to cool off and go out.

Jonah was as enthralled in the fire as I was. In fact, having him here was part of what made me notice all this, more than I had ever noticed it before.

When the fire was finally gone, we curled up together into two sleeping bags we had zipped together, and it was so cozy. The night air brushed our faces, and our body heat was already rising. In fact, we had to unzip the side halfway down to get enough air.

We didn't need a tent tonight. The sky was perfectly clear, and as black as could be. There was no moon, so the stars were out like a horde of insects. I had never seen so many! All the constellations like the dippers and Cassiopeia, and the planets, big and colored, and the whole Milky Way, and a few shooting stars to make wishes on. I couldn't really come up with any wishes though, except that this would never end.

The crickets lent their lullaby to our retiring, and Jonah kissed me sweetly, gently, lazily good-night... 

And he kissed me and kissed me... 

And then his tongue got deeper and hungrier, and his hand slipped up my side, massaging my ribs and my waist; and we took off what little clothes we had on, and it felt so much better to be naked in the summer air. 

And I felt like the breeze was making love to me too, grazing my breast, tickling my pubic hair and the insides of my knees and elbows, where I was starting to perspire. So I massaged his back and his sides and his chest, sucking his taut nipples into my mouth, then mouthing his chest and down his belly, and closing over the spongy tang of his shaft, bobbing as he moved to give me access.

He spread his legs and I knelt between them, cupping his balls, rubbing them gently, moving up and down with my mouth and squeezing whenever I reached the tip.

He was getting tense, and I knew he was close, but I wanted it to go on, so I withdrew, giving the air time to subdue him a little.

Then I straddled him, moving my legs over his one at a time, and squatted over his mound, bringing it just to the entrance of my tunnel. I was the jungle, and he was the machete. He had to push through, pierce and conquer. Valiantly, he sallied forth.

I sat on his hips and leaned over, placing my hands on either side of his head, and he suckled my breasts as they hung over him. Then I rode him like I had done that very first time. He grasped my breasts and pushed them against my chest as they jiggled with my carousel rhythms.

Then he rolled me over, still inside, and finished me off with his gyrating hips. The pressure peaked and I groaned loudly, releasing it all with shouts and wails. I was louder than I had ever been before. And the black sky and the river heard me gladly, and didn't complain. Then he cried out too, and we were consummate.

* * * *

We woke early, and the air was thin, the light was thin, the bird voices thin, the sounds of the river thin. I pulled some fuzzy stretch pants and a sweatshirt on and found a place to pee.

Jonah built a fire to heat water for tea and cocoa, and to cook oatmeal. He was really good at fires. That was nice, because I was dreadful at it, and never built a fire myself unless there was no one else to do it. I would even go without a fire and just bury myself under blankets and eat sandwiches if I was by myself. This was so much better.

We stood, hands outstretched, feeling the delicious wafts of smoke and hot air invade the cold surrounding us. The sun would be up soon, and it would get plenty hot today, but right now the dry air was cool and the fire was bliss.

So was the hot drink held in a ceramic cup without handles that warmed my hands; and the bowl of oatmeal, also held on the outside, then eaten to warm the inside.

I walked down to the river and watched the water in all its swirling, swilling, swishing, swelling, swaying, sweeping patterns. Jonah came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. We stood a long time, really still, just looking at the water. 

He slipped his hands under my sweatshirt, and they were cold against my skin. I squealed and pushed them away, but he planted them on my belly, and pretty soon they were getting warm again. I liked him treating my body like it belonged to him, the way a child artlessly imposes upon its mother, without a second thought. 

The sun was coming up over the cliff, the light spreading over the trees and bushes nearby. We packed up our things - the fire had been small and was already out - and secured the car. Then we shouldered the backpacks and started up the trail.

His legs were much longer than mine, so we didn't hike together, exactly. We just stayed in the same vicinity. The trail wound around and crossed the river in numerous places. Sometimes I would take a rest, then I'd pour on the effort, and find him reclined against a tree in a little grassy spot. So we were never very far away from each-other. Besides, there was pretty much just one way to go if you followed the trail, so I didn't figure I could lose him.

The sun and the heat mounted, and I had to stop and change into shorts and a tank top. I had my favorite boots on with super-absorbent socks, so I was all set. Jonah went barefoot most of the way. I envied him that, but my feet were too tender, and I didn't have the time to toughen them up. Besides, I didn't really want to. They'd get all rough and calloused. I liked how soft they were. Much better in the sleeping bag at night.

We stopped for lunch when the sun was overhead in a shaded grassy area right next to the river. The cheese was all melty in our sandwiches, but it tasted really good. We had fruit and carrots to munch on, and Jonah ate about half the bag of tortilla chips. I hoped I had brought enough food.

After lunch, we splashed in the river. He peeled off his clothes and found a pretty deep swimming hole to skinny dip in. The water was too cold for me to get very deep, but I waded close to where he was and marveled at his ruggedness.

Then we pushed on, arriving at the lookout that led down to the hot pools with plenty of light left. It was perfect. We could cook dinner and still get to the pools easily by dusk. 

I knew I'd be sore tomorrow from all this hiking, but the hot water would help take the kinks out, and it was wonderful to be here. We hadn't seen a soul on the trail. We had the place to ourselves.

We had chili for dinner - made with a powdered mix and river water. The water purifier was ideal. We couldn't have hiked with the weight of drinking water it would take to bring in. Jonah finished off the other half of the chips, and a lot of the trail mix I had packed. He wasn't into rationing food like me, but I figured it was up to him to come up with a solution if he was going to eat it all the first day.

It didn't look like we needed the tent again, so we just laid the sleeping bags out and headed to the trail that would take us to the hot pools. It was very winding, back and forth along this rather steep rocky hill thing. Jonah took my hand at the steepest parts and helped me down over some tall rocks.

Finally, we reached the pools. The sun was sinking in the west, and the breezes already felt cooler. The river ran nearby, so we took our clothes off and dipped into it, and the wind cooled our wet skin pretty fast after that. We waded into the hot pool, and it was scalding. But I stood in one spot, absolutely unmoving, and just let the heat prickles travel into my feet and up my legs. After a while, I could go a little further and a little further. Slowly, my body adjusted to the heat. I got out for a few minutes and sat on the sand. Then when I got back in, it didn't feel as hot.

Jonah was floating on his back, immersed in the steaming water. His eyes were closed and he made an interesting sight, with his brown head of hair, his dark and fuzzy whiskers, his tan face, the queues of wet hair that trailed down his arms and legs, the white skin of his torso, the dark arrow that angled down his belly, the mass around his hose, and the hose itself, which just sort of floated limp and undirected in the water. 

I had never viewed him like this - sort of displayed in front of me - for so long. In fact, I don't know that I had ever viewed any man like this. Paul's father and I had never gone swimming or in a hot tub in the nude. I sat, just sort of staring, studying him.

I slipped down into the water, immersing my shoulders, and the heat went straight into my aching muscles. But after a while it began to feel a little suffocating, so I sat up and let the wind dry my tangled hair and my upper body. Jonah sat up too.

The light was fading fast, but we could still see each-other, and we locked eyes for a while in silent communion. Then we stood up and the wind dried us below the waist.

Jonah reached his arms out and held my hips with his hands, pulling my belly against his groin. I curved my arms around his waist and rested my head on his chest.

We stood quiet and still, until my back started to ache from being in one position too long, and I had to move.

It was dark, and we were ready to go back to camp. We stepped out of the water onto the sand. I felt so warm from the bath, I didn't want to put my clothes on. Then I realized I wasn't sure where they were. I couldn't see them in the dark, and I felt around for a while before I located them. 

"Did you bring a flashlight?" I asked Jonah.

"No."

"Neither did I. This should be interesting, finding our way back in the dark."

There hadn't been a moon last night, and there wouldn't be one tonight. It was probably a half mile trail, and hadn't been that easy to come down.

When I was at home, I had this habit of never turning on a light when I got up at night. I was used to walking around in the dark, though I sometimes bumped into things or hurt something, and told myself laughingly that I really should turn on a light. But I never did.

This was a little more daunting, but at least I had some practice at it. Besides, we didn't have much choice. So we grabbed hands and felt our way along, moving slowly and carefully. There were a few lighter shadows and some landmarks along the way that helped. Jonah seemed to remember a lot about how the trail went, and I had the feeling this wasn't the first time he had found his way in an unfamiliar place in the dark.

We made slow progress, and I felt swallowed up in the blackness, groping for the tree branches next to the trail, shuffling my boots along the ground to detect anything in the pathway, bumping against rocks, finding the right direction. It was sort of fascinating. I did the best when I quit trying to figure it out, and just let my body intuit where to go.

Time disappeared, and we just put one foot in front of the other over and over again. I was excited when I realized that we were reaching the top, and from there camp wasn't far. But once we got to the top of the trail, the ground was more open, and we had to move even slower, feeling our way without a trail.

I bumped my knee on a sharp rock, and an unexpected branch caught me across the cheek, but I counted myself lucky that those were my only injuries. 

We found the sleeping bags, crawled in, and zonked out. 



My Son's Best Friend Ch. 12



The morning found us early again, and Jonah built a fire. We repeated yesterday's ritual of hot drinks and oatmeal, and then engaged the river.

By mid-morning, the sun was beating down, and we were ready to go in it, and not just watch it. I waded in carefully, feeling my way with tender feet to tentative footholds. Jonah ran through it like a deer, splashing across the stones with abandon.

We found a swimming hole that was pretty deep. Jonah threw his shorts to the edge and dove into it, immersing himself, while I held my dress up and squealed my way in inch by inch. I pulled it off over my head and gasped when the water reached my belly. He laughed at me, but he didn't splash me - that might have been a deal breaker!

There were tiny fish swimming in the water, and they put their little sucker mouths on our skin. It tickled, and I squealed again. I was being very girly, but I was having fun.

After a while, we swam to the other side, where there were large rock formations, and we climbed up on a big flat one. We let the sun dry our naked skin, then found some shade so we wouldn't get burned.

The cold water and the hot sun made me feel lazy, like one of the little green plants nodding their heads by the river. I scooted near Jonah and put my head in the hollow between his shoulder and his chest. He curved his arm around me, and we stared up at the canopy arched over us, watching the intricate and incessant rearrangement of the leaves against the sky.

The birds were having their usual discussions and disentions, and the river added its opinions at regular intervals. But it was all congenial, and no one meant anything by it.

I knew from his even breathing that Jonah was dozing. I propped myself up on my elbow and watched his eyes darting underneath his eyelids. It was strange to look at him so close up and from so many angles. Sometimes I felt like I knew him intensely, and sometimes I felt like I didn't know him at all, and sometimes I felt both those things at once.

I lay my head back and closed my eyes, and let my mind wander into the place where my thoughts all turned into wisps of smoke and disappeared into the void.

* * * *

When I woke, Jonah was nowhere to be seen. I sat up and wrapped my arms around my bent legs, squinting up at the hill behind me that was almost a cliff. I heard a thin whistling sound. I pursed my lips and blew an unsteady note. A louder, clearer whistle answered.

Peering in the direction I thought it was from, I saw a distant figure waving his arms at me. Then I saw him start to make his descent. It wasn't long before he joined me again on the rock.

He offered me some strange looking yellow things, and I looked up at him a little warily.

"What are those?" 

"Wild fruit. I found a bunch up the hill. Try some."

I took one and bit into it. It was sweet and really juicy.

"Wow! That's good." I spit out the seeds.

He nodded.

"There's other stuff around here too. Some amaranth we can cook with dinner, and some edible flowers, and a couple tubers I dug up."

He sat down, lustily sucking the skin of one of the larger ones. Then he stood up abruptly and took my hand.

"C'mon."

He jumped into the water below us, and I followed, squealing but happy. We swam to the other side, put our clothes over our wet skin, and headed back to our camp.

When we got there, Jonah went rummaging through his backpack and raised his knife as a trophy when he found it. He disappeared into some bushes for a few minutes, then reappeared carrying a flexible stick. He sat down by the fire pit and started to whittle one end into a sharp point.

I watched, fascinated.

"You gonna make a bow and play cowboys and Indians with that?"

He just kept whittling. I munched on more of the yellow fruit and made some sandwiches.

I got out a paperback to read after lunch, and Jonah said he'd be back in a little while. I guessed the cowboys were waiting for him.

Hours later, I looked up from the climax of my story to see Jonah rustling through the bushes, holding something limp and bloody by the hind legs in one hand, and a mess of something green in the other.

"Whoa!" I blurted.

Jonah was intent on his task, building a fire, skinning and washing the thing and weaving it onto a skewer to hold over the fire. He propped it up and put the other things into a pot with water, then balanced it on some rocks he arranged in the middle of the fire.

The vegetables bubbled and boiled and the meat sizzled, and the smells were really enticing after a while. I scooted closer, entranced by the sight and scent. Jonah squatted, tending the food and fire, and I squatted next to him.

He reached his arm out to me, folding me close almost mindlessly, and in that moment I knew I was his satellite - that his movements and mine were intertwined and dependent, even when the cords weren't obvious or identifiable.

I had never felt more at home than I felt right now, and if it hadn't felt so comfortable, I would have been in awe. But I didn't think. I just smiled and gave a little sigh of contentment.

Soon the food was done, and Jonah took it off the heat. He put the meat into the pot with the vegetables. Then he sat in the dirt, with the pan on a nearby flat, if slightly tipped, stone.

I lay my head on his shoulder while we waited for the food to cool.

When it was ready, he took out his knife and scraped little pieces of the meat off into long strips. I opened my mouth, and he dropped one into it. Then he popped in some green things and a white medallion he had sliced from the pan.

I chewed slowly. The flavors were interesting. Different from anything I had eaten before. They tasted very earthy and nourishing. The meat was tough, but satisfying.

He threaded some into his own mouth and chewed heartily.

He looked down at me and leaned to kiss me, mingling the savory juices with the movements of our lips as they mashed together. Mmmm.

We swallowed and kissed deeper, our tongues meshing and twisting with hunger. I leaned closer to him, feeling this earthy passion rise up in me that seemed to come from the dirt, the trees, the meat, the fire, everything surrounding us.

I climbed over his legs and sat in his lap, kissing stronger and harder. He put his large hands around my sides, so big they partially covered my breasts. He held me firmly, kissing back.

We stopped, catching our breath, and he put more meat and vegetables into our mouths. We chewed and kissed, mouths touching, tasting, sucking, meeting, retreating, smiling, laughing. Mmmm...delicious.

More meat, more greens, more lips, more roots, more chewing, more kissing, more groping, more grinding, more flesh, more skin, more sucking, more slurping...

Jonah leaned back, planting his head in the dirt, and I lay on top of him, feasting on him. The pot was empty, and I was ready for dessert. So I wriggled and squirmed over him, sucking his skin, his nipples, his belly. 

He pulled his shorts off, and I captured his pole between my legs, undulating like a seal or a fish, swimming through him, gliding into his veins, easing myself over him and engulfing him; rocking, rocking, rocking.

I loved the feel of our skin touching in so many places. I could feel it all up and down the front of my body: my cheek crushed against his cheek, my breasts pressed against his chest, my arms around him, our bellies breathing against each-other, our thighs pushed together, our feet playing over each-other.

Then the joy-waves were flowing outward in circles from the pebble, their wake extending further and further out to the shores of the universe. 

"Jonah," I muttered, and I knew who he was.

"Jonah," I said, and I knew who I was.

"Jonah," I repeated, and I knew we were right.

"Jonah," I panted, and I knew it would last.

"Jonah!" I cried, and I knew everything.

"Jonah!" I screamed...

and there was nothing left to know. 

* * * *

We climbed into the sleeping bags as soon as it was dark, and immediately went to sleep. Right before I closed my eyes, I saw that the moon was a tiny sliver in the west.

I woke in the darkness, and Jonah was wrapped around me, his leg thrown over mine, moving against me. He was hard again.

I turned toward him and opened my legs wide, and he pressed inside, the juices from our earlier coupling dripping down my crack, making this one an easy slide. I was sleepy and languid, and I threw my arms up above my head, just letting him move as far into me as he wanted. 

His movements got more tense, more determined. I could feel the shimmering moving through me, and I just let it flow. I took a deep breath and breathed out. The more I relaxed, the more the shimmering snaked in all directions.

His grip on me was tight, and he was driving, but I was limp, and the sparkles were popping, and he was going right through me to the other side. His body contracted, and he groaned loudly, thrusting all the way to the nadir. He whined and shuddered, eking out the last drop. Then he collapsed.

His breathing was almost immediately heavy and even, and he was practically snoring. He slept on top of me, and I went back to sleep. Eventually, he slid to the side, still holding me, his body heavy on mine, but comforting.

* * * *

When the morning light woke us, I looked at his eyes, watching them stretch and blink awake.

"That was interesting last night," I murmured.

"What?" he seemed puzzled. "Dinner?"

"Well, yeah, that was interesting too, but I was talking about what happened in the middle of the night."

He frowned, and I could see the wheels were turning slowly this morning, creaking with effort. His look was somewhat blank.

"Do you remember making love to me in the middle of the night?"

Still blank; then he breathed, "Hmmm..."

"You don't remember?"

"Well, what I remember was this amazing dream I had. It was incredible. I was, like, doing something - something really important that was going to save the world, and there was this woman there, this amazing beautiful goddess-woman who was making love to me, and we were going to save the world..."

He suddenly heard his own words in his ears, and chortled.

"It made sense in the dream..."

He paused, remembering. Then he tried again.

"It wasn't so much the idea. It was the feeling. The feelings were incredible. Like, everywhere she touched me, I was brought to life - like, more alive than I've ever been...

"It's hard to describe."

He put his arm around me and drew me close, putting my ear to rest on his heart. I could hear it pumping and feel it beating.

"I can still feel some of the feeling," he said, closing his eyes and stroking my arm softly.

Then I felt it too, and it was sweet and peaceful.

* * * *

When we got up, I got out the breakfast food, feeling a little sheepish when I remembered my worry about having enough. After last night's dinner, I could see that Jonah was well able to contribute to the food supply. As with most things, he did it in his own way.

I thought about his dream through the day. Part of me wanted to get angry and jealous, and say, "You made love to me, and you don't even remember!" and get all huffy and hurt.

But that was kind of silly. He had experienced a wonderful dream - which he certainly didn't have control over - and I had experienced a lovely time, too, so what did I have to complain about? Was I going to be jealous of a dream lover?

I'd had dreams before. Some of them were really intense, and I would wake up with this powerful arousal, more powerful than anything that had ever originated in the waking state. There was something about the relaxation of sleep that seemed to unearth things not easily found when awake. 

And the experience I had had last night was the same sort of thing. I had been sleepy, and the sensations I had felt were stronger because of it. They seemed to have a life of their own: something I didn't have to make happen, but just let happen.

I looked at Jonah, going about his business, doing the things he did, and I felt really close to him, almost in awe of him...very in love with him.



My Son's Best Friend Ch. 13



It was late in the day, and Jonah was off doing - something. I was straightening up a little around camp, and I picked up his jacket. I sat down on the ground, hugging it, feeling really good about him and us and everything.

There was a crackling sound as I crushed the pocket, holding the jacket close.

I opened it, and there was a folded paper inside. It looked old and worn.

Hmmm. My mother's famous words echoed in my ears about respecting other people's privacy. Of course, she had blatantly and self-righteously broken those rules by going through some of my things when I was a teenager, but they were still emblazoned on my brain.

But Jonah was my lover. He was becoming my best friend (sorry, Margaret - he'll never replace you - you know what I mean). And I didn't even know if he cared if I looked. It was probably just a receipt or something. And if it turned out to be something else - something private - I didn't have to tell him I'd seen it.

So I took it between my thumb and forefinger, and unfolded it.

It was a poem, almost unreadable in the creases, but I could make it out.

she drops her rose red petals behind her and i collect them one by one in her wake wake up i'm dreaming it won't be long now i curl up into her womb sucking sucking sucking she turns me inside out and i'm bleeding bleeding bleeding i die in the rain dripping dripping dripping melting into the river that gushes out of her womb then i'm gone

I sat, a little stunned. I folded it up carefully, and put it back in.

Why was it there? Did he bring it to share with me, or did he just carry it around all the time? Was it about me? The dream goddess? His mother? Someone else? The paper looked like it had been written a long time ago; or if it had been written recently, it had gone through rain, or a lot of foldings and unfoldings, or something.

Well, I felt guilty for looking at something that was so obviously private, but I also felt glad I had seen it. It was another clue to this enigmatic person that I was falling in love with more all the time. He was deep, and I loved that.

I didn't know what the poem meant. I didn't know if it was a celebration, or a lament. I didn't know if he knew what it meant. But that was just the point. Jonah was so intriguing because he was enigmatic. I could never peg him. There was always an unexpected turn, a mystery to him.

But the mysteries weren't frightening, I was beginning to discover. The surprises were usually good ones, and it seemed that at the bottom of most things was this sweetness that was really rare in this world.

* * * *

Jonah made dinner again that night, and it was even better than the first one, though we didn't make love to it. He stewed the meat with the vegetables this time, cooked it longer, and it was more tender.

I felt sad to think we would have to go home tomorrow. I said so to Jonah.

"Then don't go," he returned.

"But I planned to return tomorrow, and I told Paul so in the note," I argued.

"So? Does Paul need you for something?"

"Well, no. In fact, he'll probably bring Kira home for the weekend again, and they'd probably be just as happy to have the house to themselves."

"So, what's the problem?"

"Well, I told him we'd be back, and I only brought so much food, and he might worry about us."

As I heard the words in my ears, I realized they didn't make that much sense. With Jonah's wilderness skills, we didn't need to worry about food. Paul was a big boy - and he didn't seem to worry about me that much.

"I didn't leave Paul a note. He knows you're with me. And he knows me better than to expect me at any given time," Jonah reasoned.

I was thoughtful. "Well, I guess you're right. There's no reason we can't stay longer.

"I love it here. It's like our own little paradise!"

* * * *

The next day was cloudy and cool, and it rained off and on. We put up the tent on a little rise, and put the sleeping bags and other stuff in it to keep dry. Then we hiked down to the hot pools again.

It was a strange paradox, sitting in the scalding water with cold raindrops falling on us. My hair dripped rivulets down my breasts, and I watched the little drops snaking their way down the ringlets to the bottom, then dropping off onto my skin, collecting and continuing down to my nipple, where they fell into the hot water. Sometimes I could see rainbow colors in the prisms that the drops made as they traveled.

We sat facing each-other, our legs criss-crossed together. I never felt aroused when we were in the water. It was too hot sometimes to even move. But I felt very peaceful and close to Jonah as he stared at me, at the water, at the surroundings by turns. Being in the water felt a lot like it did right after we made love, just really good and warm and lazy.

When we felt satiated with the heat, and our blood was good and boiled, we stood up, moving in slow motion to get out and sit on the sand nearby. We hadn't worn clothes since that first dinner he cooked, except in the early mornings to eat our breakfast, when it was cold. Even today, with the rain, we had taken them off to come down here.

My body seemed to be adjusting, staying warmer on its own, without clothes. Then, of course, the hot springs warmed it up, and I was good for a long time after that. I marveled that no one else had disturbed our retreat. I was surprised, but glad, that we still had the place to ourselves.

* * * *

Later in the day, Jonah wanted to show me where he had found the wild fruits. So we swam across the swimming hole, climbed onto the flat rock, and hiked up the hill. I was still tender footed, so I brought my boots. Jonah laughed at me, and I suppose I was quite a sight with nothing on but boots.

The rain had quit, and the sun was peeking out a little. The hike produced a good sweat, and by the time we returned to the flat rock, a dip in the swimming hole was just the thing.

I took off my boots, and went in much faster this time, still a little stunned by the cold water, but getting better at it. Once we were cooled off and tired of swimming, we got back onto the rock.

The sun was out in full force now, and it was a yummy medley to bounce back and forth between cold air, hot water, hot sun, cold water. We had had it all today.

We were splayed across the rock, the sun drying our skin slowly, and Jonah was turned on again. He took my hand, kissing it, nibbling the skin on the outside, turning it over, licking the palm, sucking my fingers one by one.

Ahhh. It was like there were strings attached to all my erogenous zones, and he was tugging on them one by one, just with his mouth on my hand.

The center of my palm was so sensitive, and my fingers tickled and tingled, and he was dragging his tongue over them, winding it around my fingers, practically drooling, sucking them further and further into the cavern of his mouth, squeezing them with his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

I groaned.

Then he went to the other hand and did the same thing. My legs were agape, and his tumescent member was rubbing against them while he sucked my hand. He wet it, and it glistened in the sun. Then he brought it to the aperture and buried it in the darkness. 

With him on top of me, the rock beneath me was a little hard, but not as bad as I would have thought. I just had to move a little bit to avoid the part that jutted into my back.

His mouth was drawing on my hand, and his cock was drawing on my insides, and I could feel him pulling the orgasm out of me. So I let the stars fly into the vortex, spinning round and round until you couldn't tell one from the others any more, and they were all just this endless trail into infinity.

I moaned, and he moaned, and I groaned, and he groaned, and we sang this duet in counterpoint until we had let it all out, and taken it all in, and finished for now what was never finished for us.

As we lay together afterward, I considered telling him about the paper I had found in his pocket in the morning, but then I thought better of it. I didn't want to ruin anything between us, and I didn't know how he would feel about it. If he wanted to share it with me, he would do it in his own good time. Till then, it was better to let it lie.

* * * *

We had one more day of lounging bliss, and then we were ready to go home. I had thoroughly enjoyed the whole time out in nature, but I also felt ready to go back and do some other things now. I hoped Paul had watered my garden while I was gone. I hadn't intended to stay away from it for so long. I hoped it was okay.

So we hiked out on Sunday, and drove back, arriving in the late afternoon. Kira's car was parked in the driveway, so I knew my prediction had been correct.

My little house was welcoming, and my garden looked a little bedraggled, but most of it was still hanging in there.

Jonah and I lugged our backpacks inside and dropped them to the floor with some commotion. Paul and Kira were watching a movie or something, his hand between her thighs.

They looked at us and gave a lukewarm greeting. No, Paul hadn't missed me or worried about me. Well, that was good.

We flopped into chairs in the living-room, and even though it didn't look that appealing, I watched the movie with them, because I was just too tired to get up and do anything else.

Eventually, they asked about our trip, and we told them about the river and the hike and the hot water, etc.

I asked Kira if she liked to camp.

"Oh no, Jean," she answered. "Only five star hotels for me!"

Then she giggled, and whispered something in Paul's ear.

"Well, good luck in this town, then," I offered.

"Oh, I know," she exclaimed. "My parents made me come here because the tuition's so low, but, believe me, when I'm done I'll be back in Portland - or maybe Chicago!"

I smiled gratuitously. Whatever.

When the movie was over, I asked Jonah if he wanted to come to bed.

"No! No!" Paul vetoed. "It's early. I haven't seen you in a week. Stay here with us, Jonah. Let's hang out."

Jonah looked up at me a little helplessly.

"Oh, yeah . . . Well, stay, Jonah. I've had you to myself all week. 'Night, all."

I blew kisses and headed to my bedroom, happy to climb into the cool, clean sheets. Unpacking would wait till morning.



My Son's Best Friend Ch. 14



It was weird, like we were all living in this sort of limbo. If I thought too much about it, it disturbed me, but if I just took things one day at a time, it was fine.

Like, Jonah didn't really live at his own house any more, but he didn't totally live at our house either. Kira lived in town by the college, but she was at our house most weekends. Paul lived here, but he spent most of his time at his job and at Kira's in town during the week. I lived here, but some part of me had felt at home out on the river with Jonah in a way I had never felt here.

I was feeling more and more settled with Jonah all the time, and things were moving forward without any request for my permission.

One day, Jonah was telling me what he wanted from the grocery in town, and I said suddenly, "Why don't you come with me?"

The thought was new, but not completely foreign.

He looked at me, and I knew he was aware of my anxieties about "what other people might think".

"You sure?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said, a little hesitantly. Then, "Yeah," a little more emphatically. "Why not?

"You should pick out your own food - I don't want to do it all. Get what you want. Help me out a little."

Jonah hesitated, but not for the reason I would have thought. He paused, then asked, "Do you - want me to pay for some stuff?"

"Do you have any money?"

"No."

"Then how would you pay for stuff?"

"Well, I could get a job."

"Do you want to get a job?"

"No."

"Then why did you ask me that?"

"Well, I don't want to be a freeloader or a - deadbeat. I just thought you might want me to help out or something."

I smiled. "Look, Jonah. Paul's father was emotionally and spiritually bankrupt. But luckily, he wasn't materially bankrupt. He sends me a steady income, and it's enough. 

"I didn't used to think it was enough. I used to think he owed me way more. But it's enough, and I know that now. And I'm very grateful that I don't have money worries, because I live within my means, plain and simple.

"You don't seem to need much. I certainly have enough to buy the food you eat. You're welcome to it - to whatever we have.

"You fixed my mailbox the other day. You repaired the roof when it leaked. You wash dishes sometimes, take out the trash. I don't need any more than that from you. That, and all the things you do for me that there are no words for...

I looked in his eyes.

"You know what I mean..."

He did.

I smiled again. "Okay, then. We'll go shopping and you'll pick out what you want, and help me cart the stuff home."

"You're not afraid to be seen with me?" he asked then.

"Well, I think it's time. They're gonna have to get used to seeing us together sooner or later, 'cuz I'm not giving you up any time soon, so, I guess this is it."

"Okay," he agreed.

* * * *

It was a little odd to walk into the grocery store with Jonah, but at least I was used to being with him now. We were comfortable together. We didn't hold hands or anything. As far as anyone was concerned, he could have been along with me for any number of reasons. I figured people would get used to seeing us together, and eventually we would be able to be more open. For now, it was enough just to be there together.

I saw acquaintances, but nobody I knew very well. People were friendly enough. We filled the cart, unloaded it at the check-out, exchanged pleasantries with the cashier, filled boxes that were kept at the front of the store, and took them to the car. It was all very uneventful - rather anti-climactic.

But it was nice to have Jonah's company, and nice to have his help with the boxes. Grocery shopping had been a little more work since he had been staying with us.

When we got to the car, Jonah told me to wait a minute while he picked up something at a nearby shop. So I sat in the car and listened to the radio while I waited.

He returned carrying a small paper bag.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Some paintbrushes and stuff," he replied.

"Oh. Yours?"

"Yeah."

Hmmm. Another clue.

* * * *

When we got home and put the groceries away, Jonah said he was going home for a while.

I couldn't help myself. I had to ask.

"To paint?"

"Yeah."

He was so closed mouthed! Sometimes it was infuriating!

"Seen your mother lately?"

"Yeah."

"She doing okay?"

"Yeah."

Forget it. He was hopeless. He didn't even seem to realize I was fishing!

"Jonah!" I was a little exasperated.

Then he reacted, like a fork in a microwave. "Jean! What do you want me to say? My mother's fine, I'm fine, everything's fine! You want me to tell you that she beat me when I was little, that she tied me up in a closet, that she's a maniac? What do you want to know, huh?"

I got really quiet. "She did?" I asked, subdued.

"No!"

"What?"

"No. She didn't beat me. She didn't...do anything. She didn't do anything! We just don't connect, okay, and I don't know why you keep asking about her. Why do you care what she's doing or what she thinks?"

I thought about that for a minute.

"I don't know. I guess I just worry a little bit, that if you have such a crappy relationship with her, that it'll affect your relationship with me, or something."

"Do you see it affecting our relationship?"

"Well, only when I bug you about her. Otherwise, I don't see it."

He put his arms around me then. "So don't worry about it. She's not you, you're not her."

"But you told me you don't love her," I said, muffled against his shirt.

"That doesn't mean I don't love you."

I stood quietly, listening. "Do you love me?"

I turned my face up to his, and he looked down. He nodded. Then we just stared at one another.

"You called me Jean."

He nodded again. I shook my head.

"I don't think I like it. It sounds really weird when you say it. Don't call me that."

"Okay. What do you want me to call you?"

"I don't know. Maybe you don't need to call me anything. You haven't until now."

We laughed a little then.

He kissed me, long and deep. I held his dark eyes with mine.

"Sometimes I can't believe how much I love you," I said.

"Can I see your paintings some time?"

He nodded. "Sure."

Then he left.



My Son's Best Friend Ch. 15



While Jonah was gone, it was a good time to touch base with Margaret. It had been weeks since we'd talked last. So I called her and asked if she wanted some stuff from my garden. She was enthusiastic about that possibility.

She came over in the evening, after a long day of work. She had her business clothes on, and we sat on the porch at the little table. I had cut up little baby carrots and summer squash I just picked, and made a dip with my homemade yogurt cheese and lots of cilantro, also freshly picked.

"You look so uncomfortable. You want something to change into?" I offered.

"That does sound tempting," she replied.

"Come on, let's find you something."

My cotton dress looked a little incongruous on her - not her style at all - but at least it was comfortable.

Then we settled back in at the table.

"Iced tea?" I offered.

"Please.

"So," she ventured diplomatically. "How are things with you and, uh, Jonah?"

I grinned. "They're good. Really good. I took your advice, and we went grocery shopping together today, and it was - fine."

"My advice?" she questioned.

"Well, yeah. You know - when I saw you last, we talked about not hiding my relationship with Jonah - being open about it. And that's what we're starting to do - slowly."

"Ah, I see," she said.

Well, I suppose it hadn't exactly been advice. It had been more of a conclusion on my part. But since that time, progress had been made, because I was now acting on what had only been an idea at that time. I felt good about that.

"We went camping," I said.

"Oh?"

"Yes. It was really wonderful. Jonah made a weapon and went hunting, and picked wild plants, and cooked it all for our dinner."

"Hmmm. Nice."

"Yes. It was."

Suddenly, I felt like I didn't have much to say. How could I put into words all the things that had changed because of Jonah? I didn't know if she could relate to any of them. She had an occasional dinner with a local bachelor - one of the psychotherapists in private practice, or a doctor from the little hospital, or the guy who owned the downtown bookstore. All very conventional, and in my opinion, boring.

How could I tell her about the wild rides Jonah gave me to places that weren't of this earth? How could I explain what it felt like to swim naked with him in the river? How could I tell her about the admiration I had for him as such a unique person?

These were all things that didn't translate easily into words, or into the mindset in which she lived and worked. I felt mute. It suddenly occurred to me that perhaps that's how Jonah felt a lot of the time.

"So, tell me about you," I tried.

"Well, I have this big mess in my office right now because there's this big land dispute up at the Ranch. Enoch wants to sell off this parcel he says is his, and Ritter says it's not his to sell, and Montoya claims it never should have been subdivided in the first place..."

She shook her head. "I have to go to the Assessor, and get back-records, and surveys, and who-knows-what-all. It's a big headache; and all these men want to do is fight with each-other. None of 'em will budge an inch. Enoch and Ritter hate each-other, and Montoya hates both of 'em. It's just crazy..."

I shook my head too, but I really had no interest in any of it. I always marveled that Margaret could give a care about the stuff she did. To me it was all ridiculous nonsense, and I stayed as far away from that kind of conflict as possible.

But Margaret had this starry-eyed delusion that if she did enough research and unearthed enough facts and followed enough logic and reason, she could find a way to make these men happy. Good luck with that!

She continued to reel off facts and details, and my mind began to wander. I wondered when Jonah would come home, and if he would bring any paintings to show me, and what I would wear tomorrow...

When my thoughts came back to Margaret, she was still rattling off figures, and I don't think she had really noticed I wasn't listening. We just weren't in sync tonight. I wondered if there was any topic we could find to connect on before I begged tiredness, or the lateness of the hour. It was still light out.

She stopped, and I gave a random grunt to indicate sympathy, or something.

"I'm sorry, Margaret," I apologized. "I feel a little distracted tonight."

"Are you okay?" she asked, with genuine concern.

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine. I'm really feeling happy these days. It's just different, you know. My life just feels real different. Like I'm changing, things are changing, and I don't know exactly where they're going to end up, or exactly who I am any more."

Margaret stared somewhat blankly, her furrowed brow indicating that she was trying to understand, but not quite succeeding. I was ready to give up on the evening.

So I went to default mode. "I guess I'm just tired tonight. Maybe this wasn't the best time to get together. We should do something another day - soon."

She looked at me sympathetically, and I laughed self-consciously.

"You know I love you," she offered.

"Of course I do. Let's do lunch soon, or maybe a movie. We haven't done that in a while. That would be fun."

She agreed, and we both stood up.

"Your clothes are in my room," I reminded her.

She followed me back, changed, and hugged goodbye.

"Good luck with that case," I encouraged.

"Thank you. And good luck with..." she stopped, a little flustered. It was seldom that she didn't have the perfect words for any occasion.

"...with...your life," she finally mustered.

I smiled, taking her words at face value. "Thanks."

After she left, I realized I hadn't given her anything from the garden. Oh well, it was one of those times.

* * * *

The garden needed some definite attention, so I gave it. I loved being in the midst of all the growing things. It reminded me of being at the river with Jonah. It had the same feel to it. I carefully watered the plants, cleared out some squash leaves that were starting to get diseased, picked a bunch of peppers for pickling before they got too hot, trimmed some dead tomato vines.

Then I sat in the dirt, wishing the whole world was one huge garden. I lay back with my head pillowed on some dead weeds and went to sleep.

I was awakened by soft footsteps, and looked up to see Jonah standing over me. He sat down cross-legged in the dirt, leaned over and kissed me. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and my eyes fixed on his brown nipples.

"Hello sweetness. I'm glad you're home."

He rested his hand on my belly, massaging it gently while he looked at my face. I stroked my hand up and down his thigh, moving under the leg of his shorts; watching his face, noting the little dots of black on his chin and cheeks, the dark fuzz on his upper lip, the cut of his long jaw line. He put his hand under my shirt and rubbed all over my abdomen and ribs, and I buried my hand further up his shorts, reaching all the way to his pelvis.

He undid the clasp of his shorts, and I reached in from the top, massaging his stomach and playing with the furry growth at the intersection of his legs. I could see the evidence of his arousal growing, and he lifted his butt off the ground so I could pull his shorts down and give it more room. Then I pulled them over his legs and he put them under his butt for ground cover.

He pulled my top off and leaned over to reach my breasts. I grasped his pole with my hand and captured his nipple, the tip of my tongue playing over it.

Mmm. It was just what I wanted. I thoroughly licked and circled it with the tip, then closed my mouth over it and sucked. Then I went to the other one, licking and sucking it into my mouth. His fingers were on my nipples now, and that meant that my cunt was coming to life, so I unclasped my shorts. Underwear was out of the question these days.

He moved his hand down, gliding over my belly, his middle finger sliding through the wetness and moving up and down, finding the bud and massaging it. His mouth covered mine, and his tongue moved around my lips, along my teeth, into my cheeks; then it penetrated my mouth while his finger plunged in below, pressing into the spongy walls, finding my G-spot. I wet my hand and gripped his pole, moving up and down on it, pulling it toward me.

He slid down to lay next to me, and I pulled off my shorts and turned toward him, bringing his cock close to my entrance. It just touched the outside, and he pushed it gently against the barrier, knocking, knocking. As he continued to rock toward me, the aperture gave way slowly, opening gradually, becoming moist, and then wet, and then slick, and then slippery, so that he slid inside further and further and further, until he was holding my hips and pumping all the way to the back, his hips driven with this intense, controlled, undulating motion.

I loved that movement, and I pushed my hips toward it, matching the rhythm, feeling him go deeper and deeper and deeper, finding the underground stream, drawing it up to the surface, drilling a blowhole for the geyser, ready to blow sky high!

Then it blew, and the jets were spraying everywhere, sizzling into mist, leaving us panting, and appeased, and gratified.

Jonah's skin was slick with sweat, and he slid off me and lay on his back in the dirt, the wind wafting over us, drying the moisture.

"I need a shower," I mumbled.

"Me too."

But nobody got up yet. It was too peaceful. Too lovely. Too perfect to move yet.



My Son's Best Friend Ch. 16



"So, you didn't bring me any paintings?" I asked.

Jonah nodded.

"You did bring me some, or you didn't?"

He nodded again.

"Oh, you!"

Then he laughed. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a folded paper. He handed it to me.

I took it, feeling a little excited, a little nervous. Drum roll please!

We were sitting in the kitchen, waiting for the pickle juice to boil. Rows of glass jars filled with peppers were at ease on the counter, awaiting orders.

I unfolded it one direction, then the other. Then I smoothed it out on the table.

It wasn't a painting. It was a pencil sketch.

It was...simple. Profound. Complex. Elemental.

It was me.

At least, I thought it was me.

"Is this me?"

He nodded.

"Wow. I didn't know I was so beautiful."

My head was bent over, studying the drawing. He was standing next to me, and he put his hand at the base of my spine, rubbing his knuckles gently over the bone. Then he began to work his way up my spine, pausing at each vertebra.

The picture went into me, through my gut, sliding up my spine, until it reached my neck and spilled out onto my shoulders and over my arms like a shawl against the chill of the night.

"Can I have it?"

He nodded again.

I picked it up and held it against my breast.

"Thank you."

I took it to my room and put it on the desk. Then the pickle juice was ready, and I needed to pour it in the jars and put them in the canning bath.

Jonah sat in the kitchen and watched me work.

"I'd like to see more, sometime," I said.

"They're in my room."

"Can you bring some here?"

He shook his head.

"Why not?"

"No room here."

"We could make room."

He shook his head again.

"Can I come see them then?"

"Yeah."

* * * *

I wanted to ask him if his mother would be around. But then I told myself, 'You have to meet her sometime. This thing with Jonah is not going away, so just buck up and face the music.'

We went out the back door, and Jonah took my hand, and we headed down the ravine to the hill behind the house. It would be a nice walk on a beautiful day.

We didn't see anyone along the way, but we were easily visible from the windows of a number of houses, and I didn't care. It was wonderful to walk with Jonah and feel the air moving in and out of my lungs, my leg muscles working, the ground passing under my feet.

The place looked kind of deserted when we arrived, and there was no car in the drive. We went to Jonah's room in the back, and the door stuck a little when Jonah pushed it open.

There were still piles of clothes on the floor and the balled up covers on the bed indicated that they were probably never arranged or smoothed neatly over the mattress.

Jonah led me to the closet, and there were stacks and rows of heavy paper and canvas, all covered with color, and numerous sketchbooks of different shapes and sizes, and pieces of wood that looked like they would fit together to make an easel. There were paints and brushes on the floor, and it looked as though the closet had been the subject of some painting sessions as well, with drips and splashes and swipes of color in random places.

"How did I miss all this when I was here that night?" I asked incredulously.

Jonah shrugged.

"Well, I guess I was a little preoccupied. I wasn't exactly looking for artwork that morning when I was trying to get out of here in one piece."

Jonah picked up a large square and handed it to me. I peered at it.

"This is that morning, isn't it?'

He smiled softly. Then he handed me another.

I grinned, remembering. "And this is that night."

He took his finger and tipped my chin up, and kissed me softly, and I could feel all the magic of that night in his mouth.

I heard a car crunch over the gravel outside the doorway, and pulled away abruptly. I looked toward the open door, and my eyes had just a tinge of terror in them.

"Relax," Jonah muttered and shut the door. "She never comes back here."

Then he came back to me and kissed me again, deep this time, and the tension of her being so close just made me all the weaker in his hands. I wanted him to take me, to own me, to flaunt it right under her nose. If he didn't care, why should I?

His hands moved under my shirt, up to my breasts, and I was paralyzed, riveted to the movement of his thumbs circling my areolae into my nipples, his tongue filling and writhing in my mouth.

I grabbed his hips and pulled them against my belly, his erection already hard, pressing into me, wanting me. We pulled off our shorts and lay on the bed, and I spread my legs. He sucked on my cunt, licking, making it wet, drawing the nectar to the surface, while his thumbs continued their rhythms over my nipples. The tension pushed everything faster, and the pulsations in my groin made me want him inside - all the way.

"I want you, Jonah! Come inside me," I pleaded. "Fuck me Jonah!"

So he mounted me, riding fast, riding to the rescue, riding for his life! The orgasm was hot and fast, and hit suddenly.

"Oh God. Oh God. Oh God."

I closed my eyes, a little dizzy, and he kissed me, filling me up with his tongue.

We rested a moment, then got up and put our shorts on. I stood up, lost my balance, fell back on the bed.

"Oh! Head rush!"

He offered a hand, and I took it.

Mmm. I felt good now. Ready to look at more paintings. There were lots of drawings and sketches too.

"How long have you been doing this?" I asked.

"Forever."

I leaned back into his sturdy frame, holding a stack of pieces, and he put his arms around me, his hand on my abdomen. I flipped them to the back, one by one. There were way too many to appreciate in one sitting, but I looked at a lot, and I could see how he had made progress from his early stuff.

"What are you going to do with them?"

"Dunno."

"Can I have this one?"

"Yeah."

Jonah went to the player and put some music on. It was nice. I liked the words. All the music he and Paul listened to seemed to have a monotone quality to it - different from the melodic stuff I had grown up with; but lyrics were important to me, and I liked what this one said. I could appreciate his music given the right setting. And I loved that Jonah was sharing his world with me.

Beyond the sound of the music, I detected a gravelly sound that indicated his mother had left again. I guessed I wouldn't be meeting her today. Just as well.

"I'm hungry," I announced.

"C'mon. She probably left something in the 'fridge."

I looked up at him. I had never considered actually going into her house. But then, why not? She was gone anyway.

So we followed the walkway to the back door, and Jonah waltzed in as if he lived there. It was kind of small and crowded and dark, but fairly neat. The kitchen was old, with old appliances, a worn oak table, dirty gingham curtains.

Jonah found some leftover lasagna in the 'fridge, and we ate it cold out of the foil with two forks.

"Mmm. This is good. Did she make it from scratch?"

"What's scratch?"

"Y'know. When you buy all the ingredients and put them together instead of buying it ready made."

He nodded. "Yeah, she did that."

"She's a good cook."

"Yeah. You want some soda?"

"No thanks. Just some water."

He got a glass and filled it from the tap, then pulled a soda out and popped the tab. We downed our drinks, and I was ready to leave. I didn't want to be in here too long. I threw away the soda can and the foil, put the forks and glass in the sink.

"Let's go home."

"Okay."

I got the picture from his room that he said I could have, and we started the long walk back. 



My Son's Best Friend Ch. 17



We were sitting in the living-room and there was a tennis match on TV or something. A commercial came on with all these cheerleaders in crop tops and shorts that didn't cover their butt, and I was suddenly curious about something.

"Do you look at young girls, Jonah?"

He looked away from the TV at me a little blankly.

"What?"

"Do you - look at young girls?"

"Of course I look at young girls. I look at everybody."

"I mean...do you look at young girls and wish you could be with one?"

Uh-oh. My insecurities were raising their ugly heads again. Wasn't I the one who had prayed once upon a time for him to find a young girl to love? But I wanted to know. I wanted to know where I stood with him.

"Do you ever look at Paul and Kira and wish you had someone like her?"

Jonah thought for a moment, then replied, "Yes."

Damn! Wrong answer!

"You do?"

"Sure. I'm attracted to lots of girls, but none of them have any interest in me."

Tears sprang to my eyes, uninvited.

"You are?"

Jonah looked at me, suddenly sympathetic; but I don't think he had a clue about what he had just done. He was just so bluntly honest all the time.

"Are you upset?" he asked.

I nodded, the tears spilling out my eyes and down my cheeks.

"Why?" He came over next to me.

I broke down then. "Because you don't want to be with me!" I blubbered.

He looked at me, confounded.

"Yes I do."

"But you just told me you'd like to be with someone like Kira!"

"Look, you asked me a hypothetical question. You asked me if I look at young girls. Sure I look at young girls. I look at old girls. I look at women of all ages. They're beautiful. Every one of them would be nice to make love to. I didn't say I want to replace you with one of them."

"No," I said slowly.

I tried to think. What was I really asking here, and what did I really need to know?

"I guess I just have some insecurity about the fact that I'm so much older than you, and I think that one of these days you'll wake up and want someone different than me."

Jonah answered. "If I ever wanted someone different from you, it wouldn't be because she was younger, or sexier. There's something about you that turns me on every time I'm near you. Do you think what you did for me in your truck that day is just nothing? That what happened between us happens all the time? I don't know anybody who has what we have. Paul and Kira don't have it. Nobody does."

"What I did for you in my truck?" I queried. "I thought I was doing something for me."

"Well, no woman ever treated me that way, and no woman ever offered what you did. Do you think it doesn't mean anything to me? It means everything to me."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Really."

"Jonah, you surprise me every day."

"Look, I'm a man. Part of me would love to fuck every woman in the world. But you're the one I get to fuck, and that's no small thing. You're the one who lets me in. You are every woman in the world to me."

I sat with that and tried to think about it. I always tried to accept Jonah for who he was - to let him be quiet and not intrude. But I was glad to know his thoughts. It was nice to know how he felt about me.

If I let myself admit it, I knew this about men already. But, somehow, I hadn't known if it was true of Jonah or not. We hadn't ever talked about it. He was different in so many ways, I had thought perhaps he was different about this too.

But the way he put it was kind of nice. Like, he didn't see me in competition with all the other women in the world. He just saw me as one of the gender which he admired and desired. The one he got to actually touch and possess. And, why was I so worried? Young girls weren't exactly banging down the door to get to him. I had the insight to recognize what a jewel he was. That was their loss and my gain.

I felt satisfied that Jonah's heart really did belong to me.

And that made me want to kiss him and hug him and eat him up. So I went over to his chair, where he was watching the tennis match again, and I sat in his lap and kissed his jaw and his cheek, nibbling into the little hollow below his earlobe, tickling the lobe with my tongue, licking around his ear and moving to the inside.

"Ohh..." That was getting his attention. "I like that," he encouraged.

So I turned around and straddled him with my legs, kissing and sucking all over his face, moving my body in a snake dance over him. We could have done it in the living-room, but I was wanting something that would be more comfortable on the bed, so I invited him there.

He followed me into the bedroom, shedding our clothes as we went. I lay on the bed with my back to him, and he lay behind me, angling his arm under my waist and putting the other one over me, kissing my neck and shoulders, which sent shivers down my spine.

"I want you to come in from the back," I said. "I love it when you do that."

His body began to ripple behind me, and I followed the motion. He doused his cock, already hard, and poked me from the back, sliding along the crack to the place where I was stroking. He pressed up against my hole and through the doorway beyond it, then closed his hands over my breasts.

I arched my back, angling the mouth of my cunt back and up to take him in deeper, jutting my breasts into his hands and my nipples forward so he could finger them. He thrust for a while, building the heat and force, burying his mouth in my neck, biting gently.

Then I told him I wanted to be on my hands and knees, and he withdrew so I could roll over. Lifting his leg over mine, he held my hips, and penetrated me, jousting with his foil, moving forward inch by inch.

I put my head down, and he buried it to the hilt, then his weight pressed on me as he took his hands off the bed and grabbed my breasts again. Clutching me, he was free to thrust with abandon, and I bounced and jiggled with his movements.

It was very roguish and carnal, and I imagined he was a ram, or a goat - uncivilized, innocent, earthy, free.

The swell moved through us, gathering momentum, building its tidal strength; then crashed, drowning us, leaving us half dead and gasping on the shore.

I collapsed under his weight on the bed, slain.

* * * *

Paul and Kira were having problems, and I didn't think they would last much longer. Their carnival had run its course, and the circuit was ending. All that sexual heat had burnt itself out, and there wasn't much else to keep them together.

I felt sorry for them, but I wasn't surprised. It seemed to me that it would take a lot of years before Paul would be ready for anything serious. He had too much playing left to do, and he really didn't know what he wanted to do when he grew up.

I started thinking it was time for him to get out on his own. I have to admit, the idea of having the house to myself with Jonah was appealing, but mostly, I just thought maybe Paul needed to cut the apron strings. He really didn't belong with his mother any more.

I didn't want to say anything, though, because I figured he'd think I was trying to get rid of him, and that really wasn't it. So I just watched and waited, and hoped something would come along to give him the idea on his own.

Then Jonah arrived at the house one day and told me his mother had kicked him out of his house.

"What?!"

I tried not to get alarmed, but this was upsetting.

"Why?...Did she - find out about us?"

"She's known about us. I told her a couple months ago. It just took her this long to figure out that she wanted to get rid of me so her girlfriend can have my room."

"Well, you are a grown boy. It's probably about time for you to move out anyway, but I'm sorry it had to happen this way."

"It's the way she does things. Makes her conscience easier if it can be my fault she doesn't want me around any more."

"So you'll move in here."

"What about my stuff?"

"You mean, your artwork?"

"Yeah. That and other stuff. There's not much space here. You and Paul have the bedrooms."

"Y'know, I've been thinking it's about time for Paul to move out. But I sure don't want to do to him what your mother did to you. I don't know what to do."

I was quiet for a while. Then I got a bright idea.

"We could build you a space! It wouldn't be that hard. It'd be fun! And then, when Paul does move out, you'll still have it for your studio!"

"You really want me to move in?"

"Sure. Why not?"



My Son's Best Friend Ch. 18



Paul was watching TV. I came in and sat down.

"I'm sorry about Kira," I offered.

He shrugged.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

"Ma, don't worry about me. I'm always okay."

"You know I love you, right?"

"Course I do." He looked at me and smiled.

"I do worry about you sometimes. I can't help it. I don't think it's been that easy for you since Jonah and I've been together. I've tried for things not to change too much, but that's kind of a losing battle. I don't ever want you to feel that I took your friend away from you, but I'm afraid that's how you feel...You were so sweet to me when you found out..."

"Don't worry so much Ma. Jonah and I still hang out. And I've been so busy with Kira, I didn't have that much time for him either. We're not kids any more."

"Do you ever think about what you'd like to do one of these days?"

"Ahh, I don't know. Kira said I should go to the university, get a degree in something. But I don't know. I never was all that good in school."

"What about your job in town? Do you think that could go anywhere?"

"I don't know. I've been thinking about taking a road trip."

"A road trip?"

"Yeah. Some of the guys at the store have been talking about it. Just heading out, seeing what's out there. Maybe going to a concert in Austin, heading down to Mexico, spending some time on the beach. I've heard it doesn't cost much down there."

"Do you have the money for a road trip?"

"Yeah. I've been socking it away for a while. I've saved quite a bit. I sort of had this idea for a while - at least the idea that if I saved up, I could take some time off and do something different. I didn't want to tell you because I thought you'd be sad with me leaving; but now you have Jonah..."

"Oh, Paul, you're so sweet. You do love me, don't you."

"Course I do."

"You don't know any Spanish, do you?"

"No, but Jack does, and he'd be going too. I could pick it up."

"Yeah, I'm sure you would."

* * * *

Well, this was pretty exciting. I didn't know when Paul would be leaving, but it looked like soon. Then I started to worry about Jonah having enough friends once Paul was gone. Seems I always had to find something to worry about!

Jonah was pretty much of a loner anyway. He'd probably be fine with Paul gone.

Besides, I had better things to think about, like the new addition to the house. Even though Paul would be leaving and Jonah could use his room, the idea of him having a studio for his artwork had really grown on me, and I was looking forward to building it with him.

So we sat down to plan it, and I asked him if he had any ideas.

"Adobe," he offered.

"Adobe? Do you know how to do that?"

"I haven't done it, but it's not hard."

"It would make the space nice and cool, and the materials would certainly be cheap," I agreed. "I don't know about you, but I'm not that great at carpentry, so adobe might be more my speed."

I figured with his artistic abilities, he would be good at drawing the blueprint, and I was right. He not only drew a precise blueprint, but also an exterior view and an interior view with details I had never thought of. The room itself was going to be a work of art!

We went to his house, and he assured me that he knew his mother would be gone, and I was happy to hear that. It would just be easier.

I took my truck, and piles of boxes, and we packed up all his belongings.

"Did she say anything about the furniture?" I asked.

"No."

"Well, that dresser could be useful, but you don't need the bed. That little table might come in handy...You know what we should do? We should build you some giant tables for the studio, and racks to hold your paintings, and shelves for paint and brushes..."

Jonah smiled at me. "I think you like the idea of that studio more than I do."

I grinned back, and gave him a hug. "I'm excited! I'm happy you're moving in, and happy I can help you do what you love!"

"So am I."

As I was emptying the dresser drawers, I came across a pile of notebooks, worn, dog-eared, covered with doodles.

"What are these?" I asked.

Jonah was across the room, packing up his CD collection and player and speakers, and he glanced over.

"Journals."

"How long have you been keeping them?"

"Since Singleton."

That was the little grade school up by the intersection. That was where he and Paul had first met.

"So you like to write too...Could I - look at them sometime?"

"Sure."

Wow. It seemed like Jonah wasn't really into keeping secrets. He just didn't volunteer anything. I felt a little easier about having read his poem that day in the forest.

I took the pile in my hands and placed it carefully into a box, marking it so it would be easy to find later. Then I moved on to the next drawer.

We carried the empty dresser to the truck, and ended up strapping it to the roof, because we needed the interior for all the boxes and the nightstand. It was a great little truck, but not as roomy as I had hoped it would be when I bought it. But we managed to get it all in one load, and said good riddance to his former abode.

We were tired when we arrived home, and left it all for unloading later. The sky was clear, so I didn't worry that the dresser would get rained on.

I flopped across my bed, ready for a rest, and Jonah flopped down beside me. I closed my eyes and realized I had a headache. Not a bad one, but obviously some residual tension from the afternoon's project.

"I have a headache."

Jonah reached over, pushing his fingers gently into my neck and the base of my skull. He followed the contours of my scalp, threading his fingers through my hair all the way to my forehead and temples. My body immediately responded, releasing the tension. It amazed me the way his touch could put me into such a deep and immediate state of relaxation.

At his suggestion, I took off my clothes and lay on my stomach. He began at my head, then moved to my back and arms, stroking softly up and down, back and across, kneading and nipping, soothing and smoothing over my shoulders and shoulder blades, down my spine to the small of my back, over my buttocks, down my thighs and calves to my feet. 

He took a long time when he got to my feet, massaging each one top and bottom, the instep, the heel, the pad, the ankle, each little toe. 

Then he turned me over, moving from my feet up my legs, over my pelvis, up my abdomen to my chest. He stroked my arms, and spent a lot of time with my hands, pushing his thumbs into my palms, following the bones all the way from the wrist to the ends of my fingers. 

Then he followed my arms back up to the shoulder joints, pressed the juncture between joints and chest, then circled my breasts, beginning at the breastbone, moving the spiral slowly up to the summit.

He tripped down my stomach and pelvis to my thighs, spreading my legs, stroking the tender inner skin until he reached the hollow, gently petting the frizzy hair.

His touch was warm and sensuous; and as he continued to move his fingertips closer to my center, the pervasive languor began to give birth to little twinges of ecstatic arising. The capricious sensations were scattered at first, but soon coming with a steady beat, and I could feel them rising in him also. 

He began to tickle with the tip of his tongue, to lick and swirl, moving into the soft skin, taking the lips between his lips, nibbling closer to the inside. He took his tongue and slid up the crevice between one lip and the jewel in the center, then down the other side. He ran it over the tip of the jewel, followed the ridges up and down, up and down, then flattened it against the center tip.

Then he closed his mouth over it, sucking, and plunged his tongue into the swollen opening, thrusting with the same motion he used with his larger member.

I moaned, repeating the atonal notes over and over with the sensations, which were now a profusion of light and color. In the midst of them, in the very core, I could feel his desire for me, his driving, pulsing, conquering thirst. It drew everything out, like a flower opening with layer after layer of petals, until he reached the pistil in the very heart.

My pelvis arched and rose toward his mouth, drinking him in as deep as I could, contracting and squeezing his tongue with the rhythmic pulsations as they broke, sudden and ineluctable. I continued the cantillations over and over, until the sensations had faded, like the recording of my favorite song.

I lay still, and he shed his clothes and slid up beside me, resting his arm over my waist. His distended pole poked demurely at my thigh.

I looked at him. "You want in?"

He grinned. "Is the pope catholic?'

I spread my legs again, turning them toward him. He eased inside, finding it ripe and mellow.

I relaxed, while he began a long slow ascent, taking his time, fanning the embers until they caught again, warming me, bringing me back to the boiling point. Then we came together in a slow-motion cascade that rumbled and resounded, echoing all the way down the canyon.