Filius Ch. 04

"Don't worry about it too much, okie?"

Gazing at her beautiful smile made me forget my worries, even for just a moment.... "Yeah, you're right." I kissed her passionately, startling her at first and then she melted into it and kissed me back. After a minute more she got comfortable to fall back onto the bed. I followed her down and lay on top of her. I let my hands wander inside her black sweater, while my fingers slowly probed under her bra and along the smooth mounds of her breasts.

"Mmmmmm," she Mombled.

I took off her sweater and bra, which revealed her beautiful pair of tits.

What the fuck? She has nipple rings. I stared in amazement.

"What? You don't like them?" she mock-pouted, shaking her hooters at me.

I laughed and then said to her, "Of course I do. I was just surprised, that's all."

She smiled, and then motioned for me with her finger to come closer. "Come and get it then."

I obliged. I pounced on her tits and then sucked and nibbled on her nipples, tasting both the sweetness of her flesh and the metallic tang of her piercings. I spat because of the latter's aftertaste.

"You don't like the taste of my tits?" She frowned.

"Of course not. It's just that—"

She interrupted me with a kiss.

"I know ... I was just kidding. But next time you are going to spit, spit on my body instead." I saw her bite her lip, before she pulled my head close to her body. Just like she ordered, I dribbled my saliva on her, starting from her tits, down to her also-pierced navel, and then licked it in the same fashion.

"Mmmmmm...." she moaned again.

I looked up at her and lightly teased, "You're a dirty girl, you know that?"

She smiled. "What are you going to do about it?" She leered at me seductively, which turned me on.

Fuck! I decided I couldn't take any more, so I pulled off her pants, and took off her panties and threw them on the floor. I undid my own pants and boxers, revealing my erection.

"Not bad," she uttered, eyeing my cock.

What do you mean, 'not bad'? Is mine not big enough? I thought defensively, feeling slightly insulted.

"You got any condoms, boyfie?"

"No, I don't...."

She snickered, and then reached over to where her pants lay on the floor. She placed her hand inside one of its pockets and pulled out a silvery square of foil. "Since you are now with me, you should start getting lots." She tore off the foil, and took out a pink condom.

"Pink?" I asked a little too loudly.

"Yup, and it's strawberry, my favorite flavor." She giggled, and moved her face close to my cock. I felt her mouth engulfing my girth, but something was odd. I realized she had wrapped my dick with the condom using her mouth.

"Mmmm ... schlurrp ... schlurpp...." She began to suck on my schlong like a lollipop, while I sat on the edge of the bed, watching. Her tongue wandered, licking all around the shaft.

"Uggghhh," I grunted. Damn, where did she learn to do this stuff?

"There. You are hard enough for Ms. Kitty." She grinned, while holding my cock in her hands and lightly beating it.

"Kitty?"

She chuckled. "It's the name of my pussy."

"You named your pussy?" I asked rhetorically.

"Yup, and I named your cock too." She then pushed me back onto the bed, and lay on top me.

"Time for Kitty to meet Mr. Woody." She grabbed my dick and then inserted my wood against her ... feline, slowly placing it in until it was completely submerged. "Ahhhh ... there you go. Time to play with Mr. Woody." She bounced up and down on my cock, while her hips gyrated. Her hands rested on my chest, and gently pushed down every time she bounced.

"Ugghhh," I couldn't help but grunt with pleasure.

"Grrrrr...." she growled, while continuing to assault 'Mr. Woody'.

"Fuck!" I felt close to my limits. I placed my hands on her hips, and started pushing upward, matching her movements.

"Uuugggghh.... I'm about to cum, Amanda."

"Ahhh ... me, too. "

"Uuugghhh ... fuck!" I erupted.

"Ahhhh...." she came, then fell foward onto me, and we both lay there, panting.

While we were embracing each other and catching our breath, from the corner of my eye I noticed that the door was slightly ajar.

That's weird; I closed it when we came in, I thought.

"Ahhhh ... that was good, boyfie." She kissed me open-mouthed, and inserted her tongue. I accepted, and returned the same.

"Mmmmpp...."

"Mmmmppp..."

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Amanda left around 7:30 pm, but not before Mom had tried to ask her to stay for dinner.

"Hello dear, are you leaving already?"

She blushed heavily, "Yes ... umm...."

"Why don't you stay for dinner? I've made some beef stew."

"Sorry, but I can't.... My sister will be back soon with dinner. But thank you for asking...."

Mom had the kind of look in her eyes that told me she already knew what had happened in the bedroom, between Amanda and me. She didn't say anything about it, however, and just kept it cool. She must have been the one who opened the door, and saw us having sex, I surmised.

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The next day I was back in school and saw Marcus with this buddies and their usual assortment of hot chicks. They were chatting, laughing, and mocking around with each other.

Chris and I sat some distance away. "How come you weren't at school yesterday, bro?" Chris wondered.

"I was sick."

We watched Marcus make out with Camilla, one of our beautiful Latina classmates. He had one hand inside her blue spaghetti dress, stroking her perky tits, and another inside her shorts, fondling her small but firm ass. She didn't even have a bra on. I could see her erect nipples protruding through the fabric.

"I guess you already heard the news?" Chris asked. He too was turned in Marcus' direction.

"What news?"

He turned to look at me. "Word is out on the street, that Marcus and his boys were the ones who targeted El Diablillo Rojos."

"Yeah...." This was old news so it wasn't much of a big deal to me. What was a bigger deal, however, was the way Marcus was cuddling with Camilla. I imagined Mom in her place, being kissed, caressed, and touched in sensitive places, and it gave me goose bumps. I never, ever want to see her with him again in any form, capacity, and distance; no matter what the reason is!

"Back to your seats everyone!" Ms. Pascual, the old and snarly World History teacher shouted. I watched Camilla frown as she started walking back to her place. Her frown vanished, when Marcus gave her a slap on the ass, and turned into a playful smirk.

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Days quickly passed and the next thing I knew, the Thanksgiving holidays had arrived. We got a week off from school, which was a nice change. Everywhere I went at school, lately, it had seemed that Marcus and his boys were in view and I'd become sick of seeing them.

Plus, there was a lot to look forward to: my mother had started making preparations for the big feast about a week before, including the menu for Thanksgiving supper that she had taped to the fridge. Along with the menu, she'd written a long list of the grocery items she would need.

Dad had finally allowed her to shop by herself, partly due to her insistence, but I suspected it was also because he was lazy and didn't want to do it himself. About two days ago, Dad had invited some office friends and was watching a football game with them in the living room, when Mom had asked him.

"So honey, I have to go shopping for groceries."

"Haven't we talked about this before?"

"So are you going to do the shopping then?"

"Well, I...."

"I thought so."She had grinned as he'd begrudgingly handed her the keys to the car.

Mom let me invite my friends to our apartment for lunch on Thanksgiving. Dad was out visiting one of his friends when they all arrived.

"Hi boyfie! Happy Thanksgiving!" Amanda greeted me, and gave me a kiss. Everyone came bearing contributions to the feast. Josh brought a sumptuous-looking pumpkin pie.

"My Mom made this for you guys." Josh handed me the pie, gift-wrapped with a bright yellow.

"Mom! Josh brought us some pumpkin pie!" I shouted as I unwrapped it eagerly and sampled a small piece. I licked the whipped cream from my fingers; Josh could tell that I thought it was really delicious.

Mom had her hair tied back in a ponytail, and was wearing her 'Best Mom in the World' apron. We watched her slowly approach us, carefully carrying a pie plate with a pad on the bottom and a transparent glass lid cover on top. When she got closer, I realized it was one of the fruit tarts I'd seen her making this morning. The house smelled delicious from all of the food she'd been cooking.

"Why, thank you for the pie, dear. Well ... and here's something for your family, in return. It's a fruit tart with a chocolate almond crust."

As she transferred the plate, her hands accidentally brushed against his. "Thank you, Mrs. Smith." Josh was blushing, a rare sight.

"Sorry that I didn't gift wrap it."

"That's um ... alright." He replied with his head down, looking anywhere but at her. Mom seemed confused by his body language for a moment, and was perhaps wondering if she had done something wrong, but then swiftly recovered. She had no idea that Josh had a big crush on her.

It was Sidhu's turn to hand her his gift. He presented her with a white casserole dish with a glass cover. Since my Mom's hands were full, I carried it instead.

"Thank you dear. Please guys, come inside and have a seat." Mom invited everyone in.

Instead of sitting at the dining table, we all crowded into the living room and sat on the couch; there was no place for people, given all of the food covering every surface in the kitchen: various ingredients, condiments, tableware, whisks, mixing bowls, empty and full pots and pans, a mortar and pestle, side dishes, and casseroles, were all scattered about in organized chaos: visual proof of all of Mom's diligent and meticulous preparations for tonight's dinner.

From what I'd heard we were going to have guests: my grandparents from my father's side, and Mom had invited a ... friend. It was apparent from the way she assiduously worked - chopping onions and tomatoes, whisking eggs, mashing potatoes, and deep-frying fish battered in flour and eggs - that she wanted everything to be perfect for tonight. Who might her friend be? I wondered.

I took the plates Mom had filled with the food she'd prepared for lunch: mixed vegetables, deep-fried fish fillets, slices of roast lamb, and the caramelized flan I'd been drooling over earlier, as the smell of it wafted through the apartment while it had baked in the oven. I handed a plate to Amanda and each of my friends.

"Wow, this is delish!" Amanda exclaimed.

"Yes, this is delicious Mrs. Smith," Josh agreed.

"Why thank you guys." Mom approached us smilingly.

"Not only a beauty, but also a good cook. Dem! I wish I was a part of your family," Chris quipped, causing us all to chuckle.

"But you already are, dear."

"You hear that, bro?" He grinned at me, wiggling both of his eyebrows suggestively. I knew what he was implying, so I gave him a soft punch on the shoulder.

"Yo, Mama! My dear brotha is hurting me!" he playfully bellowed, massaging his shoulder melodramatically. Everyone, including Mom, laughed.

"Knock-knock ... knock-knock..." Mom went to answer the knock on the front door.

While we chatted and continued eating, I watched Mom lead two women, Asian and African-American, and one man, also an African-American, into the kitchen. Then she caught my eye and signaled me to come over and meet them.

"Martha, Anna, Derek, this is my son, James."

Martha's hair was dyed bright red. She smiled at me and said, "Oh my, your son is handsome, girl."

"Yeah, he's 'gwapo'," Anna, a chubby, middle-aged woman chimed in.

"Hello..." I uttered a little meekly, and blushed. I wasn't used to receiving compliments. "Mom, I'll just be with Chris and the guys. It was nice meeting you, everyone." I said to them.

"It was nice meeting you too, son." Derek, a balding man with glasses, nodded.

I stepped back into the living room to find my friends unpacking a Monopoly board. It had been a long time since it had been used, the last time probably was before we had moved into the apartment. I'd forgotten that I'd placed it in under a table near the couch.

"Yo bro, want to play banker?" Chris offered.

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Chris, Amanda and the rest of guys left around five; Mom's guests followed suit an hour later. Dad then returned at about seven, just in time to get ready before our next line of guests arrived.

"So ... can you tell me who this guest of yours, is?" Dad demanded.

Mom didn't respond, except to remind us to get dressed for dinner. All of us dressed formally: Dad and I wore black suits, white shirts, black bowties, and black dress shoes. Mom looked like a vision from a fashion magazine in a purple one-shoulder gown with a wide matching fabric belt, and black high-heels. She'd put her hair up in a French twist, allowing a few tendrils to artfully stray along each side of her face.

"Knock-knock ... knock-knock ... knock-knock...." We all turned from our seats in the kitchen, to face the door. Mom stood up without hesitation and walked out of the kitchen to answer it. After some time, she reappeared with someone terrifyingly unexpected in tow ... at least, it was terrifyingly unexpected for me, and possibly for Dad too.

"What's up?" Marcus looked sleek and neatly-groomed in a white suit with a black shirt, and black leather shoes. His ear glittered with light reflecting from a diamond earring, the largest I have ever seen; he wore a platinum watch and necklace that also looked very expensive. He seemed like a totally different person, transformed from his normal 'thug' look, and even I would have admitted that he looked very handsome.

"What are you doing here?" was Dad's bemused, slack-jawed exclamation. I couldn't blame him though. I was shocked too.

"Why? Is this a KKK meeting?" Marcus joked in response ... or I hoped it was meant as a joke. I started to laugh but then stopped; unsure how to act, judging from his serious expression.

Mom walked toward Dad. "Umm ... honey, can I talk to you for a sec?" He nodded, a stern look on his face. It seemed clear he felt he was overdue for an explanation.

"Marcus ... umm ... we'll just be a moment, talking about something." She rested a hand on his shoulder.

Then she set her sights on me. "Please keep him company for a second, honey."

They stepped inside the bedroom and closed the door, leaving me alone with my classmate.

"Hey ... umm..." I stuttered. Here I was, all alone with possibly the last person in the world I wanted to see. But as much as I tried to feel angry, I couldn't overlook that he had saved my mother. I knew she had masturbated thinking about him, but then again it was my bad luck to have such a secret. One in which, after all, he hadn't directly had a hand. "Let's sit for a while in the living room," I finally suggested.

He just stared at me and didn't respond.

What the fuck is his problem? I decided to just take my own advice and walked toward the couch, pausing to let him go by when he also started moving toward it. Jesus. I shrugged my shoulders.

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Despite the closed door, Marcus and I heard every word, as they argued loudly inside their room. Marcus picked up a magazine from the table, and opened it.

"What the fuck were you thinking Eva, bringing him here?!"

"He's all alone at his house Greg, with no one to spend Thanksgiving with."

"But my parents will be here any moment. How will I explain him to them?"

"Well, just tell them he's a family friend. He really is, you know."

"I—"

"Hey, do you want to watch tv?" I interjected, thinking that the sound would help drown out my parents' voices. He didn't reply, and instead just turned a page of the magazine. It didn't seem like it was affecting him.

"Please Eva, I know that we owe him a lot but I don't think this is the right time..."

"When is the right time, Greg? It's just a simple dinner with us."

"I know, but...."

"Hey Marcus, do you want to watch tv?"I wasn't really sure he'd heard me the first time. This time I caught his attention. He dropped the magazine onto the table and turned toward me.

"Look. Let's cut the bullshit ... buddy. I ain't your friend, and like hell don't want to be one. So just shut the fuck up, alright. Too much noise in here already."

I was stunned. It was the first time someone had been that rude to me ... and in my own home. "I was just trying to be friendly.... What the hell is your problem?"

He just shrugged it off, and laughed at me. "Ha. Are you a fag or something?"

"What!?"

"Are you a FAG? HOMO? GAY? Do COCKS excite you?" He waved his hands to emphasize each word. Just as I was about to retort, I heard the bedroom door open. My parents stepped out and walked over to us.

"Besides ... it's your Mom who I want to be friendly with." Marcus murmured with a leer, and then stood up from the couch.

"You know if Greg ain't cool about it, I can just bounce. I understand, he doesn't want me here." He said to them as if trying to be conciliatory, which I knew was all fake.

"No, no, of course not, dear. He's just a bit anxious because his parents are also coming in for dinner. Right, honey?" She gave my father a stern look. He didn't say a word.

"It's okay girl. I understand. I'll just spend Thanksgiving by myself, like I always do...." Marcus bent his head and covered his eyes with a hand.

Just leave, motherfucker! Leave! I thought.

My mother sobbed a little at that, and I noticed her eyes were shining with tears.

What the fuck? She believed Marcus' lies.

"Greg...." she muttered softly, now with tears streaming down her face.

Dad panicked, and scrambled for his pockets for a handkerchief. "Alright, Jesus! Stop crying, Eva. He can stay."

She immediately brightened and hugged him, kissing him several times on the cheek. "Thank you, honey."

We then heard a knock on the door. "It must be them," Dad said, and motioned for me to answer it. I turned and took a step but then stopped when we all realized that they were already inside.

"I must have forgotten to lock it," Mom piped up.

"Happy Thanksgiving, every—" My grandparents halted in their tracks, eyes and mouths opened wide, staring at Marcus.

Marcus stared back.

Happy Thanksgiving, indeed. I said to myself.

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"So how are you, Grace? How's Oklahoma?" Mom asked my grandmother as she passed her the plate of sliced roast beef. We were now assembled at the dining table in the kitchen. My grandparents sat side-byside, facing Marcus and Mom. Dad sat to the right of my mother, directly across from me; and I sat on Marcus' left.

"As usual. Tending the farm, going to Church, talking to the cows ... and talking to Jacob when I don't," my grandma remarked, lightening the mood as everyone laughed. She had styled her greying hair in a sort of beehive style, with wisps curled to frame her round, slightly wrinkled face. Her appearance and jovial manner reminded me of a comedic actress from the 1960s.

"Hunh," retorted Grandpa. "Really now, mama? I'm thinking maybe you meant 'destroying the farm, going to the bingo, talking to your friends', and ... hmph. Not one word to me." He said it with a smile in his voice, and we could hear the inflection from his native Southern drawl. We all chuckled again.

"Damn, you white folks sure crack me up!" Marcus commented a little loudly. Everyone turned to look at him.

Grandpa gazed, keenly focused on him, like a hawk. "I hate to be rude. But who are you again, and uh, what are you doing here?"