Back Door Woman: Sat. PM Ch. 01bypjstewart50©
After a leisurely, wonderful breakfast, Kiefer spent most of the late morning and early afternoon napping. He'd wake up from time to time for a pee and a drink, but mostly he lazily snoozed. I didn't care. He sprawled on the large sofa in my den, and because it faced the kitchen, I was able to glimpse him frequently as I moved alternately between the kitchen and the breakfast table where my laptop roosted. It was so good to have him here. Sometimes the unexpected visits are the best.
Around 3:00 p.m., Kiefer rose from the couch and headed to the kitchen where I was finishing preparation of our evening meal--pot roast and vegetables. When the time came, I'd also prepare homemade rolls. Kiefer usually took salad duty. Although I had consumed a huge amount of the food that Kiefer had prepared earlier, his morning disinterest in food had caused him to eat sparsely at breakfast. Because of this, I'd already prepared a turkey sandwich for him to keep him from starving before dinner. When he reached the kitchen, he came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my left shoulder.
"Choppin' cotton. Wha' choo doin'?"
He unwound his arms and moved away, turning his back to the counter near the sink so he could see my face.
"What the hell is chopping cotton? Is that one of those Southern things? Is that kin to spitting cotton? I've heard you say that before. What's all this cotton shit?"
"Oh, Kiefer. Give me a break. I don't get all your Canuck humor either. God. I can't even believe you ARE a Canuck!"
"Well, technically I'm not, you know."
"Close enough, love. Close enough."
I completed sealing the foil around the dish that held the roast and vegetables and turned to face Kiefer.
"You hungry? I fixed you a sandwich. It's in the fridge."
"And what's a fridge?"
"It's where your sandwich is so you'd better figure it out if you're hungry."
I turned around to move the dish into one of the ovens. Thanks to Kiefer, I now had three ovens. When I'd mentioned remodeling my kitchen a couple of years ago, he'd jumped on the bandwagon, offering suggestions and placing requests. I'd told him to slow down on his requests because I had a budget I was sticking to. He told me the remodel was my birthday present. I told him I didn't want a birthday present that cost that much. He told me to fuck off. I got the remodel.
I only used the third oven at Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. Kiefer, however, used all three when he stayed here more than a couple of days. He was a really good cook, but he cooked gourmet stuff. I was a plain old Southern cook. Oddly, he liked my cooking. I couldn't imagine him liking all of the relatively heavy fare since he cooked such delicate stuff, but he did. In fact, between Thanksgiving and Christmas in Canada, he always made his way down here for a Southern Thanksgiving meal. He loved the sticky, moist, highly seasoned dressing as opposed to the familiar stuffing he had grown up with. Candied sweet potatoes? He ate his weight in them. But his weight was down, now. Damn that Jack Bauer's heroin habit. Too skinny. I'd been calling him Barney Fife for months.
"Maybe you'd better skip the sandwich, Barney. You wouldn't want to gain an ounce."
"Oh, fuck you. I don't look like Barney Fife." He had already opened the refrigerator door and was pulling out the sandwich.
"Where's your bullet, Barney?" I teased. "Don't lose it. Andy will be pissed."
He ignored me. He moved out of the kitchen and around to the bar separating the kitchen and den where he perched on a barstool and began to eat his sandwich.
Pot roast safely tucked in one of the ovens, I moved to the sink to rinse the few dishes I'd messed up while preparing the evening meal and transferred them to the dishwasher. Oh. One of the two dishwashers that I now had. Wonder how that happened. Two dishwashers. Absurd. Two freakin' dishwashers. Kiefer had three in his kitchen!
"How's the sandwich? O.K.? You want some chips? A pickle?"
"Nah. No chips. I'll take a pickle, though, if it's a dill."
"Sure. I made them this summer. I'll get the jar out of the fridge. You know. That thing where your sandwich was."
He eyed me darkly. He even growled, I think.
I retrieved the pickles from the refrigerator, unscrewed the band and removed the lid, and passed the jar and a fork up to the bar. He plucked a pickle from the jar and took a huge bite.
"God, I love your pickles. You know, I'm out of them at home," he hinted.
"Too bad. Have to come here for your pickle fix."
I moved to the breakfast table to finish the review I was working on. Only about a half hour more and I'd be done. I glanced up to see Kiefer finishing his sandwich and fishing another, was it the third, pickle from the jar.
"Whatcha doin' on that thing?" he asked of my work on the computer.
"Oh, writin' a review. I'll be through very soon. Why don't you play with Athos for a while? You promised him last night and he needs some exercise. And you'll be able to work off those sandwich calories, Barney."
Kiefer threw me a truly evil look. He made his way back to the kitchen, tossed the paper plate in the trash, placed the pickles back in the fridge, the fork in the dishwasher, and headed to the French doors leading to the backyard. He opened the right one to step out, hesitated, closed it, turned and walked to me at the table. He leaned down and kissed my head. I reached up and pulled his head down where I could kiss his forehead. He tilted his head to one side and kissed my lower lip. Once. Twice. He pulled away and looked at me. This was too weird. I was getting the same feeling I'd gotten this morning when he kissed me differently. Whaddup with this boy? I hoped I'd find out before he left tomorrow. God, I hated Sundays. They were like the last day of something--last day of spring, last day of summer, last day Six Flags is open, last day he's here.
Kiefer returned to the door and went out to play with Athos. I could hear them through the doors. I was most certain that Athos talked to Kiefer. Even more, I was certain that Kiefer understood him. I think maybe Athos gathered information about me for Kiefer and then related it to him when Kiefer visited. No. I'm not crazy. And I am kidding. Sorta. Kiefer had an amazing way with animals. What were they telling one another, I wondered. I returned to my work, finished up a few minutes earlier than I'd anticipated, and determined to go out and play with the boys.
About the time I had shut down the computer, Kiefer opened the door and came in. He was a mess, grinning from ear to ear. Apparently, the two of them had found the mud at the edge of the garden and attempted to get every drop of it to adhere to them. Beyond the door, Athos was unrecognizable. As I determined that Kiefer was about to step forward, I leapt to my feet and began to scream.
"Kiefer William Frederick Dempsey George Rufus Sutherland! If you take one more step inside this house you are a dead man. Freeze!"
He froze, but he was shaking with a fit of giggles. He obviously didn't know I was serious.
"Strip, young man. I mean it. Right now. Down to the nubbin.'"
The giggling increased, but he managed to choke out a question.
"Wha- - - wha the fuck is a nubbin'?"
"You're gonna find out if you don't get those nasty clothes off. I mean it, Kiefer. I won't have mud all over this house. Get 'em off! Now!"
In the midst of the giggling fit, he managed to get the t-shirt over his head and was about to throw it on the floor as I reached his side and grabbed it away from him. Thank god he'd been barefoot.
"The jeans, please."
"O.K. O.K. Gimme a sec."
Still laughing, he unbuttoned his fly, reached out and touched his left hand to the wall to balance himself, pushed down the jeans with his right hand, and then reached down to pull the jeans off over each foot. Each muddy foot. I grabbed the jeans. I pointed to my immediate left, the door of the utility/shower room. Because I had no outdoor shower for those emerging from the pool, when the kitchen had been remodeled I had also had a shower put in the relatively large room that held my washer, dryer, freezer, and other appliances.
"Get in that shower and get the mud off!"
"Jeez, you're bossy."
He headed to the shower and I headed outside with the mud encrusted clothing. God. Athos was a mess. I reached the water faucet, turned it on, dialed the 'spray' position on the attached nozzle, and began to rinse Athos and the clothes. A real cleaning would have to come later, but for now this would have to do. I turned off the water, scolded Athos, who was much more chagrined than Kiefer, and re-entered the kitchen. Kiefer was emerging from the utility room, as naked as the day he was born, except for the tattoos. I scowled at him.
"You mad?" he asked.
"Hell, yes, I'm mad. Look at this floor where your muddy damned feet have been!"
"I'll clean it up. Really. I'll get the mop."
He headed back into the utility room to retrieve the mop, but I was suddenly moved to do something other than watch him clean the floor. He was all damp and fresh.
"Forget it. C'mere."
"But I thought you . . ."
I broke into his sentence.
Very slowly, in my teacher voice, I said, "Come . . . here . . . , please."
He eyed me, then came forward.
I took his left arm, pulled him forward, and turned his back to the narrow wall dividing the kitchen from the breakfast area. I placed my left palm flat on his chest and abruptly pushed him up against the wall.
"Bend your arms and place them on top of your head," I continued in the teacher voice. He hesitated. "Go on. Do it," I said. He raised his arms.
With my hand still on his chest, I lowered myself to my knees, still staring straight into Kiefer's eyes. His body tensed, and he started to protest, his arms slightly moving.
"Do not move. You have been a very bad boy. You know what happens to bad boys, don't you?"
He whispered a hoarse 'no.' Then I saw it in his eyes. Damn. The hang up shit. The old 'control dragon' had reared its ugly head. He was not sure if he wanted me to continue. I stood up, took his face between my hands, and cooed at him, dropping the teacher voice.
"Kiefer. I know what you're thinking. I am NOT trying to control you. Please tell me that after ten years you've figured that out. I don't want anything but to give you pleasure. Please, please tell me that you believe me."
He gave me a tremulous smile and placed his hands over mine.
"I know. I'm sorry."
"Then will you please stop thinking about who's doing what to whom and concentrate on enjoying your body? Please? Just enjoy yourself."
He nodded affirmatively. I didn't push changing my voice back to the authoritative one.
Rather than immediately returning to my knees, I used both my hands to replace Kiefer's arms back on his head, then replaced my left palm on his chest. I placed my tongue between his breasts and began to make lazy, sideways figure eights all the way down his chest, past his navel, and to his pubic hair. I returned to my knees and prepared to enjoy the feast. Getting head was not what Kiefer was adverse to. He avoided situations where he felt a loss of control.
I cupped Kiefer's balls gently, continuing to look up at him. I then moved my hand to the base of his penis and encircled it with my thumb and index finger, exerting a slight pressure. I licked the head of his penis. I loved its velvety feel. I rubbed it on my cheek then placed it back in my mouth. I wanted this to last a while, so I had determined to change the pace and tactics for as long as I could manage it. I started by slowly licking his phrenum. It was slick and incredibly hard. I continued to lick him, alternating pressure from less to more.
Soon I engulfed his whole penis in my mouth. I was lucky. My gag reflex was generally only incited when I was on my back. I held Kiefer's penis in my mouth for a few seconds, then slackened my lips and moved upward while blowing my hot breath on him. I continued this for several minutes. I moved my mouth up and down with little pressure but a lot of heat from my breath. The heat, the slight friction, the moisture, all combined to make Kiefer's legs begin to tremble slightly. I managed to look up for a glimpse at his face. He had tilted his head back slightly, his mouth was slack, eyes shut tight. His arms were still above his head, my left palm still on his chest though a bit lower, pressing him against the wall.
When Kiefer's knees began to bend, I changed my movements. I began making circles with my mouth, all the way down, then up, down then up, trailing my tongue along the way. The knees bent more, and Kiefer's arms started down off his head to hold himself up. I raised my head, took his cock into my palm, stood up slightly, and increased the pressure on his chest. "No," I commanded. "Arms back up."
Kiefer grunted, but the arms went up. I moved my left hand from his chest and grasped behind his left knee in an attempt to steady him. Then I resumed my feast. His strong, muscular legs were quivering now. I soon moved my right hand down to his testicles, now tight and full, and my mouth began pumping up and down a bit more quickly. I speeded up in near imperceptible increments, adding a head movement along with the up and down motion. The knees buckled. The arms came down and the palms of his hands went to the wall. I didn't stop him this time. Kiefer was in Pudge Rodriquez stance, on the tips of his toes, knees splayed. I had to move my knees farther back to accommodate Kiefer's change of position. I continued to stroke his penis with my hot mouth, faster and faster until his breathing matched my own rhythm and intensity.
Kiefer's head was tilted way back now. His breath was coming in short, loud gulps. His hands came almost painfully down to the sides of my head as he tried to pull me away when he knew the time for the explosion was at hand. I shook my head 'no' from side to side to let him know that this was going all the way. He could only gasp in response, continuing to hold my head. His buttocks finally sank to the floor. His cock was throbbing. I could feel the movement inside my mouth. He held his breath. The hot cum filled my mouth. And filled it. And filled it. I greedily swallowed it all.
The breath he'd been holding slowly escaped. His head lolled to the left and his lips were parted. His eyes were still closed. His hands fell from my head down to the floor. I disengaged my mouth from his penis as carefully as I could. I knew it was super sensitive. I tried to replace the warmth of my mouth by enclosing his shaft with my warm palm. I leaned forward, placing my left cheek on Kiefer's chest. I looked up at him. His eyes opened slightly. I smiled at him. He weakly smiled back. I nestled on his chest again, allowing him to recover for a minute or two. Eventually Kiefer's left hand fingers came up to caress my hair. I lifted my head and spoke.
"You O.K.? Can you get to the sofa?"
"Oh, please" he muttered softly. "I'm paralyzed. I'll never walk again."
"Uh, all right that you can laugh. I'm serious. My legs have no feeling in them."
"Oh, you'll be fine. Here. Let me help you to the couch. You'll be fine by dinner."
As Kiefer muttered 'O.K.' I stood and then assisted him to do the same. We managed to make it to the sofa where he collapsed. I started away, but he stopped me.
"No, please. Come here," he said, inviting me into his arms.
"Just a minute," I said. I went to the bathroom under the stairwell, fetched a wet cloth and a towel, and returned to the sofa. I handed Kiefer the cloth and towel and he began to clean himself while I headed to the kitchen for a drink.
"Water?" I asked.
"Just a sip of yours."
As I returned, I drank from the bottle of water thirstily, handed it to Kiefer, and tumbled down onto the couch. He was up on one elbow, drinking from the bottle. I handed him the cap and put my head down. I heard him replace the cap and toss the bottle to the floor. He didn't lower himself back down. I looked up at him. He was doing it again. Staring at me. It was so weird.
"WHY are you staring at me? What is wrong with you? You've been doin' this all day!"
Kiefer looked busted.
"I'm not starin' and there's nothin' wrong. I don't know what you're talkin' about."
This was very unlike Kiefer. He was honest to a fault. Don't ask him if he likes something unless you want the truth. But he was lying to me now.
He took my face in his hands and kissed me. A hard kiss. An insistent kiss. Then he pulled away and looked at me again. He tucked his bottom lip inside his mouth, then bit down on it with his teeth. He let his lip go. Then he took me into his arms and held me very tightly.
Kiefer moved his right hand between my legs. I knew where he was going, but I really wanted to wait until later when we could concentrate more on one another.
"Not yet, sweet. I'm, O.K. Later is fine."
Kiefer looked at me intently. He softly responded.
"Whaddya mean later? What's wrong with now? Are you all right? You still mad?"
"Nooooooooooo. I am NOT mad. I just know that later this evening, after we've had a great meal and some time to talk and maybe a bubble bath, we'll both be in better shape to enjoy our time together. What's wrong with that?"
He studied my face, but was apparently satisfied with my response.
"Take a nap with me, please," he said gently.
I hesitated in responding. He was lying to me about something begin wrong with him. I knew it. I just hadn't figured out what it was. I decided the most expedient decision right now was to go along with his request. He'd be asleep in minutes and I could go on about my business. I raised my head, kissed his chin, and answered.
"Sure. I could use a short nap."
We snuggled into a comfortable position, and I determined to enjoy this time together, no matter what was really wrong with Kiefer. His arms encircled me, gently cupping me close to his body. I felt safe, cared for, and very happy. Tonight, I would discover what troubled him. Now, I enjoyed the bliss.
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