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Every Monday After School

By: BlueNotes



Author's note: The following story is about young lust and mature longing, narrated by an unreliable teenager who thinks sex first in all matters at all times, with little regard to consequence. All characters, both real and imagined, are eighteen years or older.

* * * * *

When I stopped hearing the sexy feminine click clack of heels on the hardwood floor upstairs I should have known I was in trouble. Instead, I held my breath and listened for footsteps on the stairs or any possible sound that might indicate Mrs. Taylor's presence in the basement. After a few moments of not hearing anything I assumed I was safe and went back about my business. 

I was alone, waiting for my friend Jason to get home from school, and by 'business' I mean I was splayed out on his bed, completely naked, and masturbating myself into a frenzy while I thought about his mom upstairs in her short sky blue sundress and her noisy sandals, her flowing auburn hair and her milky white cleavage barely containable by her push-up bra. Mrs. Taylor's bra had the extreme lift I love in a push-up bra. I didn't have to actually see it to know it was plush padded with underwire cups and, most likely, infinity edges to help hide it underneath her silky dress.

If I'm interested in a subject I don't mind putting in the necessary research. The history of lingerie, of nylon, satin, lace and silk, of how all the sheer fabrics came to be designed and developed in all their sexy incarnations, has always fascinated me. Most guys my age are into porn on the internet. I prefer my extensive collection of Victoria's Secret catalogues. I'm not judging anybody. I just want to put it out there. I'm serious about the subject. I know about all kinds of bras and the one Mrs. Taylor was wearing made me want to beg for mercy and send me to my knees. 

Ever since I've known her, almost five years now, Mrs. Taylor's been all about the tease, but on this Monday afternoon her breasts just wanted to be seen, they were anxious and needy, looking for any excuse to burst out over the top of her low-cut dress. Her nipples were talking to me. They had all of my attention. I could tell they wanted to be suckled.

I'm almost always agitated and oversexed, so naturally I like all kinds of nipples and I don't really care if they're puffy or not, but the fact is Mrs. Taylor has outstanding nipples and nature happened to make her's the puffy kind, the kind where the areolae puff out like little protruding hills above the natural curvature of her breasts, and when she smiled at me not twenty minutes ago when I knocked on her front door, they were poking out all hard and sexy and pressing into her bra, showing off their bulging shape against the fabric of her dress. If you want the truth, her aggressive nipples were the reason I was now naked and unable to control myself, my hand curled around my cock. 

I shouldn't say it's all about her nipples, that's not quite true. She wants me to love her pussy too. I know she does. Why else would she be baking cookies? Why else would she be wearing that wispy and sexy little dress?

The smell of the oatmeal cookies she was baking in the oven drifted down to me and I imagined that must be exactly what her pussy would be like, exactly how intoxicating she would be if she were to let me kiss myself into her, just for maybe five minutes allow me to bury my face into her transparent pink lace panties and let her warmth and her wetness flow free.

I can't help it. This is the way I always think. These are my thoughts and dreams of sex and Mrs. Taylor. I do know they're just dreams. In the real world, I'm eighteen and still somewhat naive about most things sexual. I think about it constantly, but honestly, I have no clue about the aroma of her pussy or what color panties she might be wearing. I'm not a virgin, strictly speaking, but my time spent inside actual pussy, counting all my girlfriends, totals minutes, nowhere close to even one single hour. That's not a number or a time frame I like to advertise, by the way, so the less said about it the better.

Right now, on a beautiful California spring day in May, three weeks from graduation, my thoughts of Mrs. Taylor have me naked in the cool air of her basement, her heels clicking on the floor directly above me not ten feet away. Jason and I are both high school seniors, and for the past month I've spent at least an hour every Monday afternoon after school waiting for him to get home from band practice. He plays the saxophone and his practice runs late every Monday. I'll tell you why later. It's not that important. The thing is, I wait for him in his basement. And dream about his mom.

I'm not embarrassed. I don't feel the need to explain everything, but for those that care, I'll summarize the previous three Monday's and how they led me down the road of debauchery, of ending all my inhibitions, and how I came to be completely naked on my best friend's bed. . . 

* * * * * 

The first Monday I watched some boring movie on television in the family room downstairs while Jason's mom walked around and did her mom activities upstairs. Never once did she venture down to check on me. I realized then and there I could be doing other things. Anything really. Like most guys my age I'm way over the line of oversexed, so it just popped into my head, why not start to play a dangerous and sexy game? 

The next Monday I went into his bedroom straight away and sat on the edge of the bed. The kitchen is directly above Jason's bedroom. I laid back on the bed and thought about Mrs. Taylor. I unbuttoned my Levi's, lifted my hips off the bed, and pushed my jeans and my boxer briefs down tight around my thighs. The door to the bedroom was only partially closed. I left it that way so I could hear Mrs. Taylor if she were for some reason to start stepping down the stairs, but also because, I admit it, I liked the idea of being caught. It was exhilarating to think she might walk in and see me all exposed, my torso naked, my raging hard on poking straight up toward my head. 

Still, at least on that day, I was afraid to masturbate to completion and make that distinct and discoverable mess. I was afraid the scent of my sperm would be obvious in the aftermath. It's not just the telltale milky goo. I know from years of practice, even the air in a room gets heavy and humid when my body glistens with musky sweat and cum gets sprayed all around. So I settled for lightly running my fingers up and down the length of my shaft. I pretended my fingertips were her lips and I made Mrs. Taylor kiss my cock. I teased myself right to the edge for close to an hour until I finally heard Jason at the upstairs door. I had to quickly dress. I knew what I was doing was more than a little crazy. That this out of control exposure, this pulling my pants down and showing off my cock outside of the controlled privacy of my own bedroom, it had to be a one time thing. 

It's not hard to guess that my reservations faded with each day that passed and as the weekend turned into a new week. Anticipation soon overcame common sense. 

The next Monday I came prepared with lotion and two absorbent paper towels and I went into his bedroom like I didn't have a choice. I wanted the thrill of being exposed again with Mrs. Taylor above me just a flight of stairs away. Without any hesitation, I pulled my t-shirt above my chest, pushed my shorts, this time I was wearing khaki cargo shorts, down around my ankles and let my hands wander free. I left the door wide open. My only concern this time was to make sure I finished before Jason came home. 

I stroked myself quickly and came much faster than normal, much faster than if I were home alone in my own bed. I knew what I was doing. A boundary was being crossed. Mrs. Taylor was only maybe twenty steps away, I could hear her voice talking on the phone as I masturbated, her closeness, her sexy full throated laughter intensified my orgasm and gave me goosebumps as I came. I was delirious. Everything went so smooth I laughed out loud. I had plenty of time to clean up and cover all my tracks. Obviously, I now saw no reason not to continue the following week. I even thought of ways to escalate. . .

* * * * *

So there you have it and here I am. Back to the present Monday with Mrs. Taylor upstairs in her short little blue sundress and her high heeled sandals and me in Jason's bedroom. It's easy to understand why this time I had every confidence I could never be caught. I was experienced. I knew what I was doing. An established pattern was in place. 

I took my time and slowly undressed. I carefully folded my t-shirt, my shorts and my boxer briefs, and placed them on the bedside table. I stood for several minutes in the open doorway, stark naked, exposed and alone with Mrs. Taylor right upstairs. I walked out into the family room. I stretched and looked down at myself. I'm in good enough shape, maybe a little lean, but solid and strong and firm from the years spent in my garage with my free weights developing muscle tone. I'm still growing but last time I checked, maybe a few months ago, I was six-foot-one and one-hundred-seventy pounds. It may sound strange, but times like this, when I get naked, I get turned on by my own body. Virtually every time I take my clothes off I get an erection and right now my cock was as hard and stiff as I'd ever seen it. The cool basement air made my balls tingle. I was ready for anything.

I walked to the foot of the stairs and peered around the corner. Mrs. Taylor was down the hallway near the kitchen and standing with her back to me. She had her hands on her hips and looked like she was lost in thought, her head tilted to one side. I saw her bare calves flex and I knew she was turning around. She was turning and I knew she was about to see me. I wanted her to see me. I wanted her to see my erection and know that it was all for her. Instead, I chickened out, I leaned back just in time and held my breath. She walked toward the stairs. She was close. So close I could hear her breathing and smell her perfume. Then I heard her turn and walk away. Back toward the kitchen.

With my heart pounding in my chest, I made my way back to the bedroom. I had to focus, so I thought about Mrs. Taylor's nipples, how if she were here with me she would playfully ease the straps of her dress from her shoulders and arch her back, showing off, exposing herself to me. She would smile at me and say she wanted to prove that they were puffy and ready to be kneaded. I sat down on the bed and listened to the sounds of her footsteps clattering against the kitchen floor. Mrs. Taylor baking cookies, the aroma drifting down the stairs, and me exactly where I wanted to be, starting to rub the head of my cock, reveling in the extreme hardness in my hand. I rolled onto my back, a glob of lotion turning my palm and fingers into an ever tightening and clinching version of her pussy. 

I thought about the hem of her short blue dress and her long sinewy legs, her creamy thighs, the muscles of her hamstrings taut yet tender to my tongue. I imagined kissing the back of her knees as I began to thrust my cock in and out of my hand, over and over I went, slick and lubricated and with rhythmic strokes, working myself into a fury, my hands hot and tight and out of my control, the lotion easing the way, my fingers a perfect copy of her cunt. Mrs. Taylor was calling out to me, coaxing me to get still harder, to fill her and to fuck her, she told me to do anything I wanted to her sexy naked body. She wanted me inside her bald pussy. Mrs. Taylor shaved her pussy. I knew she did. I knew she had a tight glistening little bald cunt. I knew she shaved it just for me.

I closed my eyes and heard myself begin to moan. Both hands gripping and squeezing, I imagined the purple head poking free, staring up at me. I was sweating now, the room was spinning, my climax building, my heart pounding. I couldn't wait to see my cum. I was at that point of no return where white cream shows itself in spurts, like ribbons of confetti streaming through the air, uncontrollable and without guidance it can splatter anywhere. I didn't care anymore. I opened my eyes. I wanted to see it, I wanted to feel it, to actually hear it pulsating out like milk from a squirt gun, the silvery shards of sperm shooting all over me. I was about to give myself a hot sperm bath and nothing could stop me now.

I looked down at my cock. I felt the cum building inside and about to gush. I don't know why but I also felt something else, something uneasy and unsettling. A presence. Another set of eyes. 

I looked up at the open door and saw Mrs. Taylor wide-eyed and staring at me. Her clear brown eyes flashing into mine. We both froze. And then, without any more encouragement or even the slightest motion from my hands, it all just happened. I was spurting and spraying, first up to the side of my face and then a squirt into my chin and one more coating my chest in a glaze of hot white cream, and then finally one last spurt. I don't even know where it landed. I was delirious. My cheeks flushed red. I thought I might burst into tears. My cum was everywhere. 

"Oh my. . ." Mrs. Taylor said. "Oh my, goodness. . . Jonah? What are you doing?"

"It's not. . . it's not what it looks like. . . I don't know. . . I don't know what I'm doing," I stammered.

I couldn't help it. I was back at it. Back to squeezing on my cock.

But she was already gone. I finally put my hands up to my head and covered my face. I couldn't bring myself to see anymore or think about what I'd done. The world may as well have been ending. . . 

I heard the faucet running in the adjacent bathroom. 

"Oh shit," I mumbled into my hands. "I am so dead."

The mattress rocked beneath me. I looked through my fingers and saw Mrs. Taylor sitting down on the side of the bed beside me. I reached down with both hands to cover myself. 

"Really, Jonah? You hardly need to bother." 

"What? . . . Why?. . ."

Mrs. Taylor just smiled. She had a warm, wet washcloth in her hand and purposely went about cleaning the cum from first my face. . .

"You really went to town down here, didn't you?" She smiled at me, kindness and understanding in her eyes. 

She was leaning over me, her cleavage looked so cozy all pressed together in her push up bra, her hard nipples outlined against her dress. Were her nipples never not hard and poking out and wanting to be seen?

"Went to town?" I said. 

She wiped the silvery white cream from my chin. . .

"That's a lot of cum for such a young man. Really such a mess, don't you think?"

"I guess so. . . That's how much I always cum, Mrs. Taylor."

I was starting to relax. Maybe the world was not ending after all. 

"Well then, it was smart to take your clothes off, wasn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am. I guess it was."

"My, aren't you polite?" she laughed. "And such a hard and sexy body, Jonah. Really, such a darling boy."

Her eyes twinkled at me. She has the deepest brown eyes. I blinked at her to see if I could blink her away. To see if I was dreaming. When she wouldn't go away I felt my cock stirring back to life. Already stirring back to life.

"Now, listen to me, Jonah. We have to understand each other." She reached own and held my hardening cock in her hand. "Are you listening?"

"I'm trying. I'm trying to listen," I somehow managed to say. I was sure my voice cracked. My throat was dry. My cock now suddenly rock hard in her hand. 

"We have to get you cleaned up and dressed. Jason will be home soon. We can't have him find us here like this, can we?"

"Should we lock the door?"

I was ready to run upstairs and lock all the doors. I was sure she wanted to be fucked right then and there. I don't know why I thought that. She did say I should get dressed. But now her hand was stroking on my cock and I was moving into it, lifting my hips off the bed. I wanted to cum for her again. Only this time deep inside her perfect little cunt. I was sure she had a perfect little cunt. I reached up and cupped a breast. I rubbed a finger over the fabric of her dress and bra, her hard nipple underneath.

"No dear, that's not what I mean." 

"Why not?"

She laughed. "I just told you, Jonah. Are you the kind of man that never listens?" She sounded serious now. "Because I'm tired of that."

"I'm listening," I said. "I just don't understand. What are we doing? That's what I don't understand."

I really didn't get get it. I have a hard enough time trying to understand girls my own age. Apparently, older women operate on a completely different frequency. Why was she stroking me if she didn't want to fuck? Mrs. Taylor was very attentively stroking on my cock. In fact, her grip had tightened, she was pumping hard now, skillfully using my precum as lubricant. 

"What don't you understand?" Mrs. Taylor said, her face flushed. "We don't have much time. You have to get going."

Mrs. Taylor was wearing ruby red lipstick. She was pursing her lips at me. I think she was daring me to kiss her, but she had a hungry look in her eyes that startled me, and I hesitated. I still wasn't sure what was happening. She was being aggressive with her hands and cautious with her words. 

Then at last she said something that made sense to me. At last her words finally caught up with her hands. . . 

"I like how fast you got so big and hard, Jonah. I'm impressed. Do you think you can cum again?"

"I do think so. . . I mean, I know I can."

"Then you should, dear. I want to see you up close this time." 

I loved the feeling of being naked and exposed for Mrs. Taylor. The feeling of her being in complete control, of being naked while she watched me, while she was still bottled up in her sexy dress. I loved showing myself off for her, showing off my erection, arching myself off the bed. I started to moan for her. I was trembling. My entire body felt like it would explode.

"I can't always know where. . . I may not be able. . . Oh my god, Mrs. Taylor, that feels so good."

I wanted to cum all over her. I was trying to warn her first. So she wouldn't be mad when I squirted into her face and all over her dress. I wanted to make a creamy mess all over Mrs. Taylor.

"Don't worry, Jonah. You can give in to it. I'll take care of everything this time."

Without any kind of warning she reached down with her free hand and cupped my balls and pressed a finger against my ass. Her fingernail scratched at me. Mrs. Taylor has long fingernails, clear-coated with a shiny acrylic polish. She didn't seem to care. She inserted a finger into me anyway. I tightened on her finger. Everything about me tightened against her hands. 

"Look at you. Such a naughty boy," she growled at me. "You can't help it can you? Getting so hard for me, calling me down here, making me stroke your cock and fuck my finger into you?" 

I wish I could make her do other things, all kinds of things, but I was too far gone. I could only moan. Thrust and moan for her.

"Such a masturbator, Jonah. Down here like this. What could you be thinking? Was it me, dear? Was it me in your head while you were fucking on yourself, your big cock in your hand?"

A calmness settled over me. I realized my orgasm was still building. All my edging practice was paying off. This might actually be meant to last.

"It's always been you, Mrs. Taylor. I'm sorry, I can't help it."

"It's alright, honey. I like it," she blushed. A sexy blush to both her cheeks. "I knew what you were doing all along. Masturbating down here. Fucking yourself. Jerking your cock for me. Working it in and out of your hands. Such a naughty boy. Thinking about me while you masturbate." 

"I know. I do. I always do." 

"It's okay. I want you too, Jonah. I want you inside me. Such a hard throbbing cock fucking me. Would you like that? Your big cock inside my tight cunt?"


Every Monday After School



"Oh fuck, yes." 

"Well, maybe next time," Mrs. Taylor laughed. "We don't have time today. You need to cum, Jonah." 

"I want to."

"Do you want to see me? Would that help?"

"Yes. It would. I want to see you. All of you."

"We don't have time for all of me, dear. Pull the top of my dress down, Jonah. I busy here. I don't want to stop."

She was busy caressing my cock, stroking the shaft and rolling her palm over the head, her finger still probing its way into me. 

I slipped the straps of her dress off her shoulders and slid it down, exposing her pink satin push up bra, I knew it was pink, somehow I knew it would be pink. 

"Keep going, Jonah. Unhook my bra."

"I reached around to her back, fumbling for the hooks.

"In the front, dear." 

"Sorry."

"It's okay. Get it off. Hurry, Jonah."

Her milky white breasts spilled out, the nipples ripe and rosy red. She adjusted her position on the bed so my cock was pointed at her chest.

"That's it. Now cum on me. Spray it all over my tits, Jonah. I want you to."

"Oh my god. Help me. I so much want to."

"Do it then. Close your eyes. Feel it. Your cock, Jonah. Feel it pulsating in my hand. Think of my nipples, Jonah and my cunt. . .my cunt. . . cum for me. I want to see it. . . all over me, cum for me Jonah, cum now, right now. . ."

"I'm trying."

I couldn't believe I hadn't cum yet. I wanted to. I wanted to show her. Shower her tits in white cream. It was close though. It was building. It was getting ready to gush.

Before I could cum she leaned down and took me in her mouth. Her full red lips sucked on the head of my cock. I was finally cumming and Mrs. Taylor was taking all of it, my cock deep into her throat, my orgasm releasing into her in waves, spurt after spurt, and she took every drop. 

I thought for a second I glimpsed white glaze oozing from her lips, but she took a quick breath and slurped it away. I was clean now with only the wetness from her lips and red traces of lipstick on my cock. She finished by licking the underside of my shaft and kissing the purple head, five sweet little kisses, I counted every one, and then one final suck, hard and hungry with her tongue pressed against the tip.

Mrs. Taylor used her hands on my chest to push herself up and away so that once again she was sitting at my side.

"How do I look?" she asked.

"Awesome. You look awesome," I said. "I love your nipples. They're so puffy. I knew they would be. I could tell."

"No, Jonah," Mrs. Taylor laughed. "My lipstick. Is it smeared?" 

She traced above one side of her upper lip with her forefinger and then the other side. With her ring finger she dabbed below her lower lip. 

"They look perfect. Nothing at all wrong with your lips," I told her.

"No smudges then?"

"Nope, just. . . less color than before. Maybe not as red."

"Before?"

"You know. . . earlier." I said.

"Oh, you mean before the blowjob?" she asked matter-of-factly.

I felt myself blushing. 

"You mean, before you made me suck on your cock?" 

She was nodding, like she was replaying the whole thing over in her head and wanted me to agree with this new version.

"What? . . . Made you? No, Mrs. Taylor, please don't say that." 

I didn't get it, she was sounding so serious, like I had forced her to do something she never would have done.

"I didn't have a choice, dear. You were taking forever. I didn't think you were ever going to squirt. Then I felt it happening and I realized what a mess you make with that dick of yours. I can't always be cleaning up after you, can I?"

"No. Of course not." 

I agreed with her. I can clean up after myself. No problem. I've done it a thousand times.

She looked at me and smiled. Her brown eyes sparkled into mine. But there was a glare to them as well. I felt a definite, reproachful glare.

"First off, I'm teasing you, Jonah. I loved every inch of you. You have a beautiful big cock. But this was all your doing. You know that, right? I would never do this on my own. I'm not that kind of woman. To take advantage of you like that."

"No. Anyway, you didn't. Take advantage. . . I'm sorry, Mrs. Taylor. I didn't mean for this to happen. Not like this."

"Okay, then." She patted my shoulder. "Now hurry and get dressed. Then come upstairs. We have to settle on things before Jason gets home."

When I got upstairs there was a plate of cookies on the kitchen table. 

"Sit down, Jonah. Have a cookie."

"Thank you. They smell great. The cookies, I mean."

She sat down across the table and pushed the plate toward me. 

"We're in this together now," she began. "We're accomplices. Partners in crime."

"Crime?"

"Adultery, Jonah."

"Oh. . ."

I started eating my cookie. It gave me a reason to not say anymore.

"Yes, exactly. Oh is right. Now, if we stopped here, without ever having intercourse, we might be able to excuse ourselves."

"I see what you mean. Blowjobs don't count." I nodded. 

I definitely could see her argument. My last blowjob was from Cassie, a very cute, petite and perky-breasted cheerleader at my school. She told me I was her fifth blow of the year, but that it was cool, it didn't mean anything, she just wants to make guys she likes cum for her. The point is, we were not even dating, so blowjobs are not always a serious thing, that giving them or getting them is not something to get all worked up over and feel guilty about. 

"They count, Jonah. Of course they count," Mrs. Taylor said.

I was nodding along once again. She was making another good point. It's not like I don't have solid opinions of my own, but I could see how an intimate act like sucking on a guy's cock should count for something. 

What the hell, who am I kidding? Whatever Mrs. Taylor wanted to say, I was ready to agree with her.

"What I'm trying to say, dear, is that what we did today matters very much, at least to me, but it could also be seen as an accidental indiscretion, and if it were to never happen again, well, we could just go on with our lives."

"Pretend it never happened?"

"Yes, we could do that. Or, if you want, next Monday we could spend even more time together. Do you want to come here again next Monday?"

"Definitely." 

"To be with me?"

"Yes. I would love that, Mrs. Taylor."

"Call me Jenna."

"Jenna?"

"My name is Jennifer. But I prefer Jenna."

"Okay, Jenna." Saying her name made my tongue feel thick, like her name was a foreign language, one I'd never heard before. "You know, I could skip school and we could spend the whole day together." The images in my head of a whole day with Mrs. Taylor sent shivers down my spine.

Mrs. Taylor laughed. "That sounds great, dear, but I have an appointment at eleven, a job interview actually, and I won't be back, at least for sure, until one. That still gives us three hours. If that works for you."

"I'll be here at one."

"Then it's a date."

"But, we'll be staying here won't we?"

I was worried she might be thinking of going out to lunch or to the movies, something people do if they're on an actual first date. 

"Yes, Jonah. All afternoon. Together. In my bedroom. Can you handle that?"

All I could do was nod.

* * * * *

One week later, sitting alone in the school cafeteria, I thought about Mrs. Taylor and what she said, clarifying our date was really an appointment for three hours of non-stop raunchy sex in her bedroom, at least that's how I remembered it, her exact words were a little hazy now. It was noon. One more hour. I looked down at my food tray and the single oily slice of pepperoni pizza. I was hungry so I started to eat it anyway. I closed my eyes and saw myself floating in empty space. It was cold and dark. I saw flashes of light in the distance. . . 

"Hey, Joe. . . Are you dreaming?"

I guess it was a dream. Or maybe a premonition. Visions of my future. 

I'm Joe, by the way. Jason is Jay. We sometimes shorthand our names. Joe and Jay. Best friends. Except Joe has an appointment for sex with Jay's mom and Jay would probably kill Joe if he ever found out.

Jason and Cassie sat down next to me. Jason across the table and Cassie at my side.

"Jason just asked me to prom," Cassie said. She punched my arm playfully. "You had your chance. I'm not kidding. He just asked me five minutes ago."

I looked at Jason. He shrugged his shoulders and took a bite from his sandwich.

"It's not a date exactly," she continued. "Jason just thinks I'm easy. He's already booked a room at the Hilton."

"The room is for the party after prom," Jason explained. "Everybody's going and we all chipped in. No big deal."

"I hope it's a big deal. I love big deals," Cassie said, winking at me.

"Going to prom is pretty much the definition of a date," I said. I was not at all happy she was going to prom with Jason.

"How would you know?" Cassie said, shaking her head.

"Everybody knows."

"Not true, Jonah. Not even close. Dating is about two people wanting to get to know each other better. . ." 

"Whatever. You guys work it out," Jason said, laughing. "I forgot something. I'll be right back."

He scooted his chair back, got up and walked toward the line of vending machines on the far side of the cafeteria. Jason didn't forget anything. He just wanted to leave us alone for our argument. Cassie and I like to argue about everything. 

"Dating is about the possibility of romance," Cassie said, not paying any attention to Jason leaving. "Otherwise, it's just friends hanging out."

"Okay, that might be true, but going to prom is supposed to be romantic," I countered. "You can admit it, Cass. You're going on a date with Jason."

"What if I am? Are you jealous?"

She arched an eyebrow and smirked at me. Cassie is stunningly beautiful. At least to me. Her face is flawless, perfectly symmetrical and cover girl sweet, her blonde hair styled in a pixie cut, the bangs feathering over her sparkling blue eyes. Her tight little body is toned and tight all over. She was a tomboy growing up. Athletic and good at sports. She played second base years ago on our little league baseball team. Way better than any of the guys. No contest actually. I guess that's why no one said anything. They had to let her play. Not one of the guys objected. Why would we? Anyway, the point is, she's extremely coordinated and athletic. If Cassie and I were ever to get into bed together she would break me down and tear me apart. I know she would. . . 

"Jonah, I asked you a simple question," she said, tapping the top of my hand with her fingers.

"Why would I be jealous?" I said, composing myself and getting back into the argument.

"Because you love me?" she said, turning her hands upright and shrugging her shoulders, her gestures meaning it was all so obvious, what other possible reason could there be?

"What? I never said that."

That much is true. I've never said the word love, out loud, to any girl. 

"Well, I know you do."

"Oh, really? You sure about that?"

"Yep. We love each other. It's okay to say it."

"So. . . you love me?"

"Isn't that what I just said, Jonah? Well, half of what I said. What's the other half?"

I blinked at her. My heart was pounding. Could I actually say it?

"We've never even been on a real date." I said, instead. Love is not an easy word to say. I'm not even sure I know what it means.

"So what? We can date. How about tonight?"

"Why the sudden rush? We've known each other since we were kids."

It sounded absurd, even to my ears. Nothing could be less sudden. I should have asked Cassie out years ago. 

"School's almost over. I want this to be the best summer ever," she said. "Besides, I'm tired of waiting for you to ask. So I'm asking you."

"What about Jason?"

"He doesn't care. He knows about us."

"He does?"

"Jonah, sometimes you can be so dense. Why do you think he left us alone? He even said it. So we can settle things!"

"Alright, then let's settle things."

"You go first," Cassie said.

We looked at each other. I knew I was supposed to say something, but the words were still scrambled in my head. 

"I'm waiting, Jonah."

"Okay, let's start dating. We can do that."

"Wow, that's so romantic. You really know how to sweet talk a girl."

"Well, you know I've always liked you, Cass. I just thought we're too young to be serious. And that you were interested in other guys."

I didn't say it, but I knew if we dated it would have to be serious. I'd been crushing on Cassie, loving her from a distance, since we were little kids. 

"Other guys?" Cassie seemed genuinely puzzled I would bring up other guys. 

"That's what you said."

"When?"

"When we were together after I drove you home a few months ago. Remember? In your driveway?"

"Oh, that," she giggled. "I was wasted. What did I say?"

"I don't remember exactly."

Of course, I did remember. She said she had given four other guys blowjobs and that it didn't really matter, that a blowjob wasn't serious, but here with her now, after her saying she loved me, I didn't want to embarrass her or hurt her feelings. It's not like I haven't done stuff with other girls. Or like I wasn't planning on doing stuff with Jason's mom. Jesus, why is life so complicated?

"So what's the problem?" she said.

"It's not a problem. I just got the impression that you were interested in other guys, that's all." 

"Well, I'm not." 

"Good. So, are we a couple now? Boyfriend and girlfriend?"

"I guess we are."

"So, it's settled then?"

"Yeah. About time, too."

"You feel any different?" I asked her.

"Not really."

"Me neither. It does mean automatic sex whenever we feel like it, though, right?"

"Jonah!" 

She punched me in the arm. This time harder and less playful than before. Then she smiled and softened. A cute, bashful smile. "We'll see," she said. She leaned in and kissed me on the lips. Cassie has perfect full lips. The kind where the bottom lip is full and puffed into a sultry pout, but not so full that it overpowers the top lip. When Cassie kisses you, you know it, you feel it in your bones.

"I do love you, Cassie," I whispered, our foreheads resting together.

"I'm glad. I love you too," she whispered back, then louder. "Damn, it's almost one. I have to get to class. Call me later?"

"I will."

"You know what?" she said, her eyes a little teary. "I was just trying to play it cool. I do feel different. I hope you do too, Jonah."

Cassie stood up, purposely brushed her hip against my arm, and walked away, her hips swaying as she walked. My eyes followed her all the way out the cafeteria doors. She was wearing a short emerald green flair skirt with charcoal leggings and black suede high heel shooties. Up top she wore a tight undersized black jersey long-sleeve tee, the sleeves pushed up above her elbows. She oozed sex appeal in such a blatant and obvious way I was thunderstruck I had never noticed it before. 

* * * * *

A field of grass, maybe about an acre, not quite a football field of well-maintained grass lies between Santa Barbara High School and Jason's house. It takes mere minutes to cross and then seconds to hop the six-foot cedar fence to his backyard. 

I sat down on a cushioned patio chair on the redwood deck in Jason's backyard. From my vantage point I could see the driveway. I already knew Mrs. Taylor wasn't home yet, her harvest gold Subaru Outback was nowhere to be seen, so I decided to wait for her. I did consider leaving a note on the door, telling her I wasn't feeling well, and making up some kind of apology. Except I couldn't think exactly how to word it. Is that really all that kept me there? My own inarticulation, my lousy way with words? If I had the perfect way to say it, if I could make her smile or even laugh and never have her realize I no longer wanted to be there, would I really do it? Could I leave her just like that? I honestly don't know because her car was easing its way up the driveway. It was too late for any kind of note. 

Everything had changed with Cassie. I guess I was about to cheat on her. And yet twenty minutes ago I wouldn't have given it a second thought because it wouldn't have been cheating. Trying to be an adult and telling someone you love them makes everything so complicated. Why do people do it? 

Mrs. Taylor stepped out of her car and smiled at me.

"Hey there, Jonah! Sorry, I'm running late. Have you been waiting long?"

"I barely got here."

"It's good to see you, sweetie. I'm so glad you didn't have second thoughts," she said.

"Yes. Me too." 

I said it quietly. It didn't sound like my voice. I'm not sure Mrs. Taylor even heard me. 

I decided to travel back in time to yesterday and be that person for one last afternoon. A sliver of time fixed in the past for a few hours, like a dream or an alternate reality of some kind, then later tonight I could wake up and travel back to the present for Cassie and be the person she wants me to be. . .

"What a day! It's really been some kind of day," Mrs. Taylor, said. "Your parents let you drink wine, don't they Jonah? Because I want to celebrate."

"Sometimes, like, for special occasions. Thanksgiving or birthdays, things like that." 

Actually, it's more than that. I drink wine pretty much everyday. 

Mrs. Taylor was wearing a short light grey pencil skirt with a matching suit jacket and a blue pinstripe oxford shirt underneath. Her long legs were encased in nude stockings and she was making that swishing noise from her thighs rubbing together as she walked. She had beige open-toed high heel pumps on her pink toenail polished feet. She looked sleek and sexy, yet ready for business. Her hair was swept back tight into a ponytail.

"Well, this is a special occasion. I'm so excited. I have so much to tell you," she said. "Let's go inside."

As we walked toward the house I decided to come clean about my drinking. 

I told her about my mother and her parents. My mother was born in France. At seventeen she moved, all on her own, to California to go to college at UC Berkeley where she met my dad. Her parents still live in Lyon, about three hundred miles south of Paris, and we visit there for several weeks every summer. One summer, three years ago, we stayed the whole month of July and most of August. 

Anyway, I told her it's a cultural thing, my family drinks wine every evening with dinner. I started when I was twelve. It's like a glass of water.

I followed her into the house. Mrs. Taylor went to the kitchen and came back with an already opened bottle of Beaujolais and two glasses. We sat down together on the couch in the living room and she poured us both a full glass. 

"Jason did tell me something about France and he mentioned your family going through a lot of wine. I guess I thought he was exaggerating."

We clinked glasses and toasted to new beginnings.

Mrs. Taylor took a big gulp. She swirled it in her mouth for an extra second before swallowing. 

"You get drunk a lot, Jonah?"

"No, I don't. Really, never," I said.

I almost told her I was always the designated driver amongst my group of friends, but that would mean telling her Jason was the one that was always drinking too much. I prefer just the beginnings of a gentle buzz. No one in my family drinks to excess.

"Never?" she said. She took another gulp.

"One glass is it for me."

"Interesting." She smiled a goofy smile and finished off the rest of her glass. I was only about a third of the way into mine. She poured herself another full glass. "One glass is never enough for me," she said.

She leaned back into the cushion at the back of the couch and crossed her legs, forcing her tight shirt to ride up even higher on her thighs. I could see the tops of her stockings where the nylon fabric changes to a three-inch band of spandex for stay up support without the need for garters and where the color goes abruptly from transparent nude to an opaque beige. Seeing the tops of thigh high stockings always gives me chills, they're like silent invitations to the flesh above, the moist warmth of inner thighs and panty-coated pussy, all waiting there impatiently to be discovered and explored.




Every Monday After School



"I had an interview with Harrison and Lowell," Mrs. Taylor was saying, jarring me from my reverie. "It's one of the top law firms in town and they already made me an offer! I'm going back to work as a paralegal, Jonah. Isn't that exciting?"

"It does sound exciting."

I wasn't just saying that. The Good Wife is one of my favorite television shows. I have a thing for the leading actress. She plays an attorney, a partner in her firm, Alicia something or other, she's the wife of the governor and she's almost as hot as Mrs. Taylor, with the same curvy build, the same skin tone and even a similar hair color. Anyway, I could definitely envision Mrs. Taylor working in a law firm, all dressed up in her tight outfits.

"They want me to start next week. It's a big change. On my own for the first time in twenty years. Half my life!"

"Really?"

"That's right. I'm forty years old. Can you believe it? Jonah, I'm more than twice your age. God, time goes by."

"You look great, Mrs. Taylor, but you said on your own? Why would you be on your own?"

"I'm getting a divorce." 

Brain cells began bursting in my head. 

"Why?" I managed to ask.

"My husband's been having an affair for the past year. His secretary. Not much older than you, Jonah. I've been planning this for months. Now we can celebrate. Are you ready? I've been looking forward to this all week."

She finished the last of her second glass of wine. She looked at the bottle on the coffee table. I think she was deciding whether to pour the rest. There was maybe half a glass remaining. She went ahead and poured, emptying the bottle. 

"Okay, I understand now," I said. She was using me to get back at her husband. I think his name was Gary. I hardly even knew him. He was always away on some kind of business trip.

"No, no you don't understand, if you think this is about revenge. You're sexy all on your own. I would want you anyway, Jonah. I've always had my eye on you." 

"Where will you live?" 

I was still confused. There was a lot of new information to consider.

"Right here, sweetie. Gary moved out last Wednesday. Jason didn't tell you?"

"He didn't tell me. I wish he had."

"Seriously, it doesn't matter. We're wasting time." She set her empty glass on the coffee table. "I want you in all kinds of ways. I'm going to fuck you silly, baby." 

I was wearing my favorite khaki cargo shorts. I like them because they're loose fitting and comfortable and have lots of pockets. Mrs. Taylor had her hand on my knee at the hem and was slowly inching her way underneath, moving her fingers up my thigh, her hand closing in on my cock still safety tucked away, but now bulging out against my boxer briefs.

"Are you getting a boner, Jonah? That looks like it might hurt, dear. All trapped in there like that. We better let it out. Don't you think?" 

I wasn't sure what to say. Her demeanor had changed. Her voice was throaty and aggressive. I'd never heard any kind of woman talk to me like that, so direct and matter of fact about what she wanted, about exactly what she wanted me to do. This was not how I had imagined things would go. I guess I thought I would be the one in control. 

"Stand up and take you clothes off. I want to see you, Jonah."

"Right here?"

"Yes. Right now. Strip for me. I want to get my hands on you. Do it, Jonah."

I stood up and lifted my t-shirt, in one motion, up and over my head. I stepped out of my reef sandals and unzipped right in front of her. I pushed my shorts and my briefs down around my ankles and stepped out of them as well. I stood naked in front of Mrs. Taylor and we both watched my cock grow, in a few fluid seconds, from half mast to fully erect and pointing at the ceiling. I was engorged and pulsating with blood, the pink skin of my shaft stretched drum tight, rigid and veiny and vascular, the purple head swollen and throbbing and ready to burst. 

"Oh my, how I love that big hard cock," she said. "Step closer, Jonah."

I took a half-step forward. My erection was now inches from her face. I thrust my hips out and pumped my cock against the air, grazing, teasing the tip against her lips. I wanted her to take me right then. I wanted her mouth and her hands all over me. 

Instead, she looked up at me. 

"Not here," she said. "We can't risk being seen out here. Pick up your clothes and go to the bedroom. I'll follow you."

I gathered my clothes and looked around.

"It's down the hall to the right," she said. "Sit on the edge of the bed and wait for me."

The bed was huge and much higher than any bed I'd seen before. It had to be three feet off the floor. The thick mattress sat on a platform of horizontal wood sheathing and I had to hop up on it to sit there like Mrs. Taylor wanted. The comforter was already turned down. The sheets and pillows were a brilliant white cotton with lime green and navy blue abstract flowers in a sparsely sprinkled pattern. The effect of all that whiteness with little splashes of color was clean and luminescent. I don't know much about design, but the whole room had a Scandinavian feel: bright, simple, crisp and modern. Two large windows filled the room with light. A white ceiling fan gave off a gentle breeze.

I heard activity in the kitchen. A few minutes ticked by before Mrs. Taylor walked in. She was still fully dressed. I guess I had expected her to at least be partially undressed by now, maybe in some sexy lingerie, say a corset or a bustier. I was starting to feel self-conscious being naked for so long, like I was on display, exposed for her amusement. She had another bottle of wine and two empty glasses and set them on a raised bedside table made from the same natural light-colored wood as the bed frame.

"This is for later, if we feel like it," she said. 

"I'm okay, you have some if you want."

I was sitting on the edge of the bed with my lower legs dangling over the edge, my toes flexed against the floor. She came over and put her hands on my knees, spread them apart and stepped between them, her pelvis pressing into the edge of the mattress, inches from my pulsing cock. She took her suit jacket off and let it casually drop to the floor. 

"I didn't mean to be so bossy, Jonah." I saw that she was trembling. "I'm nervous. I thought the wine might help me relax, but I really am nervous. . . You look so beautiful, Jonah. So young and lean and hard. I love your curly blond hair. Are you nervous, too?"

"I think so. . . I mean, a little bit. . . I'm kind of nervous."

The thing is, I wasn't really nervous. More like apprehensive. There's a difference, but it wasn't a good time to quibble. I felt like there was already too much talking.

I put my hands on her hips and pinched the thin fabric of her skirt between my fingers, sliding and pushing into the warm suppleness of her skin. I loved the resilience of her skin against my probing fingers. I worked my way around to the cheeks of her ass and mauled her firm and ample bottom. 

Mrs. Taylor wiggled free from my groping and stepped back. At first she fumbled with her zipper, the awkwardness of her efforts were endearing, but it soon came undone, the top of the skirt opening at her waist before she pushed it down, forcing it to the floor and stepping out. She was wearing white transparent bikini panties with two thin stretchy straps at each hip, little half-inch strands connecting front to back. She stepped into me and my hands went directly to her panty encased bottom, my fingers burrowing underneath the filmy fabric and into her moist skin, my hands kneading, ravaging her flesh. 

"Oh my god. I can't believe this," she moaned. "I really can't believe it."

She leaned in and kissed me with an expertise and a passion that took me by surprise. Deep, hard, penetrating kisses, her tongue probing into me. The tentative and tender kisses I had practiced on girl's lips in dark furtive places, in cars and movie theaters, on doorsteps and parent's couches, all the clandestine encounters on girlish single beds, none of them came close to preparing me for the electricity her tongue put into me. The explosions in my mouth scrubbed me clean of my illusions, she worked me over and tore me into pieces, my childish notions of bluster and bravado floating away and popping over us like playtime soap bubbles. Is it possible to get vertigo sitting on a bed? My head was spinning and when I closed my eyes stars appeared like little fireworks inside my head and then quickly fizzled out. . .

"Jonah, sweetie, are you going to fuck me?" Mrs. Taylor was now whispering in my ear. "Turn me inside out with that big dick of yours?"

I heard the words but I couldn't tell for sure if she was speaking. The bed was swirling. 

"I think we should lie down first," I managed to say. "I feel like I'm falling."

I leaned my head back and looked up at the ceiling fan, a moment ago it was slowly turning, now it seemed like it was frozen and the room itself was spinning. 

Mrs. Taylor was sucking on my earlobe, and then flicking her tongue down my jawline to my throat. I leaned into her and offered my throat to her lustful provocations. She was a tiger and I wanted her to feed on me. I wanted her to rip me open and eat me alive. 

"Good idea. . . You go ahead, sweetie," she was panting, out of breath. . . "Get on the bed," she told me. "I'll be right behind you."

I fell back and crashed into the soft mattress, rolling to the middle of the bed, the crisp cotton sheets smelled like summer and a fresh ocean breeze from the open windows filled my lungs and soothed my muddled head. Mrs. Taylor slipped off her high heel pumps and was right behind me, her hands clawing at my back, turning me over before I had the chance to settle in. She was straddling me, her wet panties grinding on my cock. 

"Is this really happening? Mrs. Taylor, are we really here? Are you for real?"

"It's Jenna. For this one afternoon, it's Jenna. And this is real, Jonah. As real as two people can ever be together. Tomorrow, I'll be Mrs. Taylor again."

"Okay. As long it's real." I smiled at her. "For a minute I thought it wasn't. I thought this had to be a dream."

"Do you fuck me in your sleep, Jonah?"

"In my sleep and my daydreams too."

"Well, this time it's for real. No more daydreams in the basement."

She was unbuttoning her fitted oxford shirt, first the sleeves at her wrists, then the front buttons, from top to bottom she slowly opened herself up to me. She slipped the shirt off revealing a lacy transparent white bra that matched her panties. I could see the hardness of her nipples right there poking out, waiting for me.

"I'm not sure what to do," I said. "What do you want me to do?"

"Just go with it," Mrs. Taylor cooed. "Act it out. Anything you've ever thought about. I can handle it."

I cupped her breasts and rubbed both nipples through the fabric with my thumbs, thick rubbery nipples, engorged and full of life. I pushed them sideways and they sprung back at me like they had a will of their own, stubborn and resilient, ready to be suckled.

Mrs. Taylor pulled her panties to the side with one hand and grabbed the base of my hard cock with the other. 

"I can't wait any longer," she said. "I think I've waited long enough. It's time to fuck, Jonah."

She eased herself onto me. The thick head of my cock, purple and hard and covered with goosebumps, disappeared into her slick pink pussy lips. Mrs. Taylor's pussy was dripping wet. She squealed, an impish soft little squeal, and then eased me out, watery pussy juice flowing over my shaft and down to her hand, still fastened tight around the base of my cock.

"It's so big and fat, Jonah. I have to take some time. Slowly fuck it into me."

She brushed the tip, just the very tip of my penis, back and forth against her clitoris. I caught glimpses of the stubby pearl, poking out at me like an eager fingertip.

"Oh, fuck it. I don't care," Mrs. Taylor stammered. "Watch me, baby. Watch me take it all." 

I watched her force herself down onto me, inch by inch, until the entire shaft was buried deep inside of her. She was grinding, inches off and back again, the fabric of her panties teasing the shaft of my cock with every thrust. I started to thrust back at her, matching her exertions, my lifting us off the bed and her pushing us back down. 

So it was happening. And it wasn't a dream. I was finally fucking Mrs. Taylor. Our bodies in synchronicity from the beginning, a sweet harmony of moaning and motion, building in chemistry and intensity, glistening with sweat, the slippery, slapping sounds of furious fucking ricocheting off the walls. With the hardwood floor rumbling beneath the bed it could have been an earthquake. A delicate clear glass vase half filled with clear marbles and two yellow tulips toppled over on the nightstand, rolled off, and crashed to the floor, shattering into pieces, the marbles scattering across the room.

"That's it, fuck me, baby. Give it to me hard and fast, Jonah." 

I was tugging at the front of her bra. This one had to be fastened at the back, but I didn't have the patience to try to undo it there, I ripped at it and tore it loose from her chest, her full milky white breasts jiggled back at me, glorious and natural and bouncing with our every thrust. I went at her panties next, gripping two handfuls of fabric covering her ass. I tore at them. I wanted her pussy bare but there wasn't any time for stopping to pull her panties down. 

"Oh baby, fuck it into me," Mrs. Taylor moaned loudly. "That's it, all the way into me." 

She leaned down to me, her tongue thrusting into my mouth, matching the motion, her tongue and my cock each fucking in their own way. I scratched my fingernails over her stocking covered legs, the tightness of the nylon fabric stretched over the softness of her skin brought to life a thousand erotic dreams when I would flip though catalogues and fantasize about this moment, but my dreams were never this raucous, this rollicking and unruly. Mrs. Taylor was riding me with such wild abandon my inner ears went numb, a tingling, ringing sensation filled my head, my hearing was muffled and faint and I felt that popping sound like I sometimes get in an airplane or driving high on a mountain road. 

Mrs. Taylor was convulsing on top of me. Visually she seemed loud, lusty, ardent, wailing in her orgasmic throes, but to my ears the sound was eerily calm and muted. Her pussy contracted on my cock, over and over, milking my hot sperm in spasms. I spurted into her in slow motion, in wave after wave of grateful release. There was a humid wetness everywhere, even the mattress was soaking wet and the once clean sheets were now a steamy, sticky and rumpled mess.

In the afterglow she collapsed on top of me. I felt drained, more from relief than euphoria. I had survived the onslaught and my sense of hearing slowly and mystically was returned by forces outside of my control. 

"Hold onto me, Jonah. Stay inside me, baby," Mrs Taylor whispered. "I think I'm about to cum again."

I was starting to soften and needed some time, physically and emotionally, to recuperate. Mrs. Taylor was reading my mind.

"Stay still," she said. "I can do this on my own."

Her pussy clamped down tight on my cock in a vice-like grip. 

"That's it, from the inside out," she cooed, her body glistening with salty sweat. She trembled and shivered over me. "Inside and out. Oh, fuck me from the inside out, that feels so good, so good, sweetie."

We were both still and quite for a moment. Then I had to ask.

"What does inside out mean, Jenna? I don't get what you were saying."

"It wasn't intense and centered like the first one. More radiating from inside to outside, and then my whole body tingling."

"You mean another orgasm? Without me even doing anything?"

"Yes, dear. I was having another orgasm. Just a different kind. Like an aftershock. And, believe me, it was all your doing."

She kissed me softly on my lips. I felt like she was melting into me.

"Wow, that's amazing," I said. "I had no idea it happens like that."

"Well, it hardly ever does. It was amazing. Look at me. I'm ravaged. My panties are in tatters and my bra is half ripped apart."

"Sorry," I blushed. "I was in a hurry. I was trying to get you naked."

"All you have to do is ask, Jonah."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Will you get naked for me, Mrs. Taylor?"

She sat up on the bed and removed her bra and wiggled her panties down, rolled onto her side, and slid them all the way off. She put one leg in the air and rolled her stocking up to her foot and off, then off came the stocking from her other leg. She was voluptuous and curvy in all the right places, her skin a milky white with translucent pink undertones. Her nipples were a rosy red, her pubic hair was downsized and neatly and sparsely trimmed into an intoxicating little triangle.

"Well, there you go," she said. "That's all of me, Jonah."

"You're gorgeous. Everything is so soft and squeezable."

"That's one way to put it," she laughed. "I'm not a tight little teenage girl anymore like you're used to, Jonah."

"I don't care. You're so beautiful and sexy, Mrs. Taylor. . . Is it okay to kiss you?"

I brushed two fingers lightly across her pussy mound. I wanted to let her know exactly where I intended to kiss her.

"You don't have to ask, Jonah. You do whatever you want. I'm all yours."

For the next hour Mrs. Taylor helped me explore uncharted territory, she was playful and patient with all my clumsy incursions, guiding me along with ease and grace, warmly laughing off my inexperience and cooing at my enthusiasm, and most surprising of all, returning my every whim and desire with more than equal ardor. 

At the end of the afternoon we dressed easily in front of each other like real lovers do, the sunlight casting her skin in phosphorus shades of pink and white, Mrs. Taylor in a short silky teal green robe and me in my shorts and blue t-shirt.

"Do you want a cup of coffee?" she asked me. "I've got a pot all set to brew."

"Sure. I like coffee."

"How do you like it?"

"Just black. No cream."

She clasped her arm in mine and walked me to the kitchen.

"Want to try it with brown sugar? That's really good, Jonah."

"That sounds great, Mrs. Taylor."

"Already back to Mrs. Taylor?" she laughed. "Can't I be Jenna for just a few minutes more?"

"You can always be Jenna as far as I'm concerned."

"You're sweet, Jonah. Unrealistic, but sweet. Go ahead and sit down, dear, we should talk things through."

I knew the end was coming, that this afternoon could never be repeated and I was willing to accept that. But why does everything have to be talked out? This must be a thing with some women. The need to always want to talk things out.

We were sitting across from one another at the kitchen table, each with a brick red ceramic mug of hot coffee in our hands. I spooned two cubes of brown sugar from a small orange box on the table. La Perruche pure cane rough cut cubes. There was an exotic tropical scene on the box: palm trees and a parrot and blue mountains in the distance and a setting sun over the ocean. I plopped the cubes in my coffee and stirred them in, watching them swirl, slowly dissolve, and disappear. 

"Have you ever been in love, Jonah?"

"I think so. I'm not totally sure. I have been thinking a lot about it lately, though. How do you know for sure?"

I looked into her eyes. There was a serenity in her eyes. And love. I thought I saw love in her eyes. 

"Well, love, romantic love, starts with a feeling. A twinge in your heart. You know it when you feel it. And then it grows from there."

"How do you make it grow?"

"The same way you make anything grow, you care for it and nurture it. It's work, Jonah. I don't think anybody just falls in love like it's this big already developed thing that's out of our control. I think it's a decision. You choose a partner, you choose the person you want to be with and grow the love from there."




Every Monday After School



"Can't you love more than one person at the same time?"

"That's something you have to decide for yourself, Jonah. For me, I want one person to be with completely and totally. I've never had that before and I think I deserve it." 

"You do deserve it. I guess that person can't be me though."

"No, you know it can't be you, Jonah. You have your whole life ahead of you. My kids are almost grown. You need someone you can start a life with. Jason tells me the girls at school fall all over you. There must be someone you have feelings for?"

"There's Cassie. She's been over here with me a few times, we hang out together, but we've never actually been on a date."

"I know Cassie. And I've seen how she is with you. She's a beautiful girl. Spirited and full of life. She's perfect for you, Jonah. What are you waiting for?"

"I don't know. We were just talking about that today. Cassie and me. She told me she likes me quite a lot. She kissed me in the cafeteria."

"She did? That's wonderful, Jonah," Mrs. Taylor smiled. "What did it feel like when she kissed you?"

"Kind of like a surge of electricity all the way through me."

"That's a good start. You should go for it. Don't string her along, Jonah. She won't wait forever. Girls can be impatient as much as boys. I know I was." 

She smiled at me and reached over to rub the top of my hand.

"I'm going to really miss you, Jenna."

"I'm going to miss you too, Jonah. So much. You have no idea."

"Can I still come over? I mean as friends. And to hang out with Jason?"

"Of course you can, that will never change. We just have to be careful, no longing looks, even when no one's around. Can you handle that?"

"I'll try."

"Put all your attentions toward Cassie and everything will work out fine. Trust me."

I hugged Mrs. Taylor goodbye. In her bare feet she seemed so much smaller and more fragile than before. She had to stand on her toes to kiss me. When I looked back at her from the sidewalk she was standing in the doorway, she had her hand on her lips and then, without a wave, she closed the door.

Walking home it smelled like rain, the storm was still miles away, I could see it out over the ocean, dark and foreboding, but the air was fresh and electric. Life would be different from now on. My high school days were coming to an end, a closing not just of textbooks but of all those glossy catalogs as well, a conscious walking away from selfish posturing, of using every girl and image I could get my hands on as objects for personal pleasure with no thoughts to consequences. How do you thank someone who has set you on the path to becoming a better person, of understanding the complexities of life and love, the realization that you'd spent years chasing illusions, when the reality you wanted was right in front of you all along? 

* * * * * 

The last Monday of high school. A month ago I had vague plans to take a year off and travel my way through Europe, then enroll at Berkeley or Pepperdine, but nothing was set in concrete since I didn't have the necessary cash for either. Now there was Cassie to consider. It was almost four in the afternoon. Where was she? I was lying in the grass looking at one lonesome cloud drifting slowly out of my field of vision. I closed my eyes and let the warmth of the sun soak deep into my bones. I heard footsteps and felt a moist butterfly fluttering on my lips. 

"Do you let just anybody walk up and kiss you on the lips?" Cassie scolded me.

"I knew it was you."

"Your eyes were closed."

"I know your sweet scent Cassie and I know what your lips taste like."

"Really? Tell me. If you know so much."

"You smell like vanilla and roses. You taste like strawberries and vinegar."

"Vinegar? That's way off. That's not even nice, Jonah."

"I just mean sweet and tangy and full of life. I like it. You should be thanking me. I'm trying to be romantic."

"I know you're trying," she laughed. "I just don't think you know what you're talking about." 

We were sitting together in the middle of the grass field, looking toward Jason's house, only the top half of the house and the red tile roof was visible over the fence. I could see the top portion of Mrs. Taylor's bedroom windows. I felt a twinge, knowing I could see her if she were to look out at us, but, of course, she was at work, starting her new life. I smiled thinking about her, about how much I missed her and how much I wished I could tell her all she meant to me. 

"Is tonight the night?" Cassie said.

"Tonight?"

Cassie snuggled in next to me. She was wearing stylish sunglasses and a gauzy white cotton skirt with tiny see-through eyelets in flower patterns, very daring and alluring for a former tomboy. She paired the skirt with a cap sleeve, blue lilac jersey top. Her nipples stood up and out. No possibility under there for any kind of bra. Her perky breasts demanded attention. Adamant little handfuls with high pointing nipples. They looked perfect and playful, sweet red berries full of sugar.

"My parents are going out," she said. "We can have the house to ourselves. Like we planned."

"That was before you told me you're a virgin. I'm not sure about this anymore. You should be sure you're ready. I don't mind waiting."

"So what if I'm virgin? I've done other stuff. The point is, I'm ready, willing and able. I mean it, like right now. I'm really, really ready."

I laughed. "I believe you."

"I'm not going to break, honey. I've been practicing all week."

"Practicing?"

"With my dildo. It's a pretty pink one. Wanna see it? It's in my purse."

"Jesus, Cassie."

She pushed me on my back and straddled me, her bare legs clamped tight at my waist. She had me pinned on the grass, her skirt was tented over my khaki shorts, her panty-covered pussy pressing into me. The moist heat quickly started to stiffen my cock.

"I think I'll be a great lover for you," she whispered. "I've got a lot of energy."

"You don't need to convince me."

"Really?"

"I just hope I can keep up. I have a feeling about you."

"Is it love, this feeling?" she teased me. "Or something else?"

She rubbed against me. Little motions, barely perceptible to someone that might be watching from afar, but definitely grinding, sexy, fucking motions.

"Love and a little fear. You might tear me apart," I said. "Break the bed. Burn the house down. Things like that."

"That sounds so fucking good, so good, so fucking good," Cassie moaned. "I can't wait, no more waiting, Jonah. I'm ready to cum right now."

"Cassie?"

She leaned down on top of me kissing me hard on the lips and whispering in my ear. "I'm not kidding, honey. I'm having an orgasm right now. Can't you feel my pussy clinching against you?"

I put my arms around her and held her until her trembling convulsions gradually slowed and stopped. She dug her fingernails into my shoulders so hard I flinched. Her jersey top was damp with sweat.

"Holy shit! I thought I would just tease you a little." She was panting in my ear. "My pussy must really like you," she giggled. "My dildo takes ten minutes or more. What was that, two minutes?"

"I don't know, sweetheart. I have no idea." 

"And no penetration. What's going to happen when I get you inside me, Jonah? Think about that!"

She stuck her tongue in my ear. The warm wetness flooding into my brain. She had my shorts unbuttoned and unzipped, both hands squeezing at my cock through my boxer briefs. 

"Hey, slow down, Cass." 

"I want you right here. I can't wait until tonight."

"People can see us. We're out in the open. Did you forget where we are?"

"I didn't forget," Cassie purred at me. "I won't even move on you. I promise. It'll be like a test to see if we can cum without moving. People will think we're just making out. I'll do kegels on your cock. Please, honey. I want you inside me. I want it now."

"Cassie, I really think we should wait." 

"Seriously?" Cassie smirked at me. "You don't feel," her hands tightened on my cock, "you don't feel to me like you want to wait." 

I was fully erect, throbbing and about to burst. Cassie tugged at my briefs to get them down. I lifted my hips off the grass to help her ease the way. She leaned back a bit, hovering over me, still straddling me, and began backhand strokes on my cock underneath the safety of her skirt.

I looked over toward the school, several people, probably classmates of ours, were milling about the entrance, but they were a hundred yards away, too far to recognize our faces or tell for sure what we were doing, far enough to let it go, far enough to allow myself to relax and give in to Cassie.

"Okay. This is what we'll do," Cassie started to explain. "You move my panties to the side and I'll guide you in. . . Ready? . . . Jonah? . . . Jonah! . . . "

The first hot squirt of cum shot into the front of her skirt. She grabbed at the head of my cock with both hands and smothered the next two ejaculations in her palms. She brought her hands out from under her skirt to survey the damage, lifting the hem a few inches in the process, and exposing my cock to outside air. One last squirt landed at my throat.

"Jonah? Oh my god. . ."

White cream was dripping from her fingers, one gooey strand stretched its way down, wavering in the foot of space between us.

"What should I do?" Cassie pleaded, a look of gleeful desperation on her face. It was a look that indicated she might cry and burst out laughing at the same time.

I pulled her down on top of me, her cum coated hands pressed against my chest.

"Sorry, I couldn't stop myself," I said. My cheeks burned. I knew they were blushing red. 

"That's a lot of cum," Cassie laughed. "That's a big mess. We're soaked!"

"I know. I should have warned you. I didn't know I was so close."

"It's okay, honey. I love your cum. I love everything about you. This is so romantic," Cassie teased me. "I'll always remember the first time you coated me in cum."

"Yeah, right," I said. "That's very funny."

Sometimes I can't believe the things Cassie says. The girl is something else. I really do love her. I love her in all the ways Mrs. Taylor talked about.

"I'm not kidding. I wish I could eat it off my hands," she was whispering in my ear, "but that might be too obvious. People might notice if I were to lean back and start licking my fingers right in front of you. Still, that's what I want to do. God, I want it so bad. That's what I would do if we were alone, Jonah, . . . does that make me a slut?"

"Of course not, Cassie. Why would you say that?"

"I've done some things. People talk. It gets exaggerated. And there it is. I get called a slut."

"By who?"

"Different girls. Guys too. It doesn't matter. It used to make me cry. I thought that's why you never asked me out."

"That's not why, Cassie. I've been an idiot all through high school. You were always the one I wanted. Besides, I'm the slut, if anybody is."

"Okay, honey," Cassie laughed. "If you say so."

"We're together now. That's all that matters," I said. "What we do from now on."

"I agree. So. . . what is it we want to do?"

"I love you, Cassie. I'm not just saying that. I really love you. I think we should be together, travel together through time and across space, everywhere and anywhere together."

"Is that a metaphor for spending the summer in Europe?" Cassie looked over at me and smiled, but there were tears in her eyes.

"Yes, for sure for the summer, but more than that, I mean traveling through all time together. I mean someone you can count on through thick and thin. A partner. Someone who looks out for you when you need them most. Someone that loves you without conditions."

"You want me to be that person?"

"I do."

"Good. Because that's who I've always been."

"I know. I know that now, Cassie. Thank you for waiting for me."

"You're welcome, Jonah."

Cassie kissed me, deep and hard, but playful and loving. My heart ached for her, for all the passion and the tenderness she was putting into me. I hoped she could feel me trying to put those same feelings back into her. We finally sated ourselves and she rolled off me. We were both lying on our backs looking up at the sky, the sunlight creating sparkles of gold in her blonde hair. The one lonesome cloud was gone. There would be stormy days ahead, but we would work our way through them together, and at least for today, everything was blue sky as far as our eyes could see. I held her hand in mine.

* * * * *

Author's note: Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed the story please take an extra moment to vote. Comments are appreciated as well. Feel free to let me know what you think.