My Son's Best Friend Ch. 04

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But I just sat, too lazy to get up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I rapped sharply with my knuckles. Then I banged!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"God, woman..."

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

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

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

"Do you know somewhere we could go?"

"Hell, yeah!"

"Grab a blanket."

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

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

He didn't answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wow, an artist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The insistent rhythm of his body answered me.

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

"Make me ready."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I wanna sleep with you," I murmured.

I closed my eyes and was gone.

****

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

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

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

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

"Yeah."

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

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

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

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

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

"Sure," was his monosyllabic reply.

"What about your mother?"

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

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

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

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

"I love you Jonah."

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

Then we went to sleep.