tagNovels and NovellasMy Son's Best Friend Ch. 06

My Son's Best Friend Ch. 06

byCheleste©

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jonah stood up. "'Bye."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not that anyone could have stopped me at this point.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He took his time answering.

"I dunno. Stuff."

Silence.

"Jonah, I'm not your mother."

"I know."

I waited for an eon, looking at his face.

Finally, he volunteered, "Walk."

"Walk? Where?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah."

Yeah. Of course he did.

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

Growing boy!

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

"Yeah."

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

Mental note. Buy more food.

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

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

"Let's walk," he said.

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

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

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

"Uncomfortable?" I asked. He nodded.

"You want to..."

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

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

"We better get back, hunh."

"Yeah."

"Jonah. Thanks for the walk."

He gave me his little half-smile.

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byCheleste© 0 comments/ 33137 views/ 4 favorites
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