tagNovels and NovellasMy Son's Best Friend Ch. 11

My Son's Best Friend Ch. 11

byCheleste©

Paul brought Kira back for the weekend, and Jonah was gone, so I got a taste of what it had been like for Paul all these weeks. They were all over each-other, and it made me miss Jonah. Even we weren't that indiscreet, but the vibes were there whether we displayed then openly or not.

I knew better than to call him and try to get him to come back. Jonah had his own rhythms, and he didn't respond favorably to coercion. He would come back when he was ready to come back.

Paul and Kira were making out on the sofa, and I had to go in my bedroom to satisfy the desires they were stirring in me. Oh well, it felt pretty good to have all this sex in the air. If I let myself, I could enjoy what Paul and Kira were doing without letting it make me unhappy.

* * * *

Jonah came back on Monday as Paul and Kira left.

"I missed you!" I exclaimed, hugging him. Then I kissed him. I took his hand and led him into the house.

"So! What do you want to do?"

He looked at me a little strangely. I wasn't usually this forward, but, what the heck, I was feeling free, and a little giddy.

"I dunno."

"Don't give me that! Let's do something! Let's go somewhere!"

"What?"

"Let's - go somewhere."

"Like where?"

"I don't know. Don't you and Paul go places sometimes? Don't you do things?"

"Sometimes we go to the coffee shop," he offered.

"The coffee shop. Hmmm. No, not ready for that. What else?"

"Movies. The video store. The sports store."

"No. No. And no..."

Then I had it. Camping! "How about camping? You wanna go camping?"

"Well, yeah, we could go camping."

"You like to camp, right?"

"Yeah."

"Let's go! Okay?"

"Okay."

All of his answers took twice as long to give as my questions, but that was okay. He could be him, and I could still be me - I was beginning to realize.

We decided to go to the Hot Springs Trail, which was quite a hike in, so we needed to pack for at least four or five days. I was excited. This was going to be fun!

I made food plans, got out sleeping bags, tent, water purifier, backpacking frames - the whole works. We spent most of the day preparing and packing. Then I left Paul a note. I was taking the car for the week, so he'd have to use his motorcycle - or get rides from Kira.

The drive took several hours, but it was a gorgeous view. First we took the highway into some really pretty rolling hills. They didn't have any trees on them, and I always loved the way they had this dusky worn tapestry color to them.

Then we took this winding dirt road up a dry mountainside, that doubled back so you could see the grassy green ranches of the little town below it. Finally, the road meandered along a canyon with a river at its bottom, and then plunged down to end near the river.

We were already losing light when we arrived, so we set up camp for the night. We hadn't figured we'd be able to hike to the hot springs today. We'd do it tomorrow.

After a dinner of cold cuts and bread, Jonah coaxed a few twigs into flame, and we added some small dry juniper logs to it. We sat, just watching the fire, and I felt so happy and content.

This was the place to be with Jonah. It was his home more than any other place I knew of. He belonged out here with the breezes and the treeses; the running river, the stones, the grasses. They spoke his language - the lollygagging, lingering, lazy language of just being.

Out here, we didn't have to do anything to belong. We could do whatever we wanted, and no one would give a care, write it up in the newspaper, send us a bill for it, or stamp it approved for audiences over the age of 13.

It's amazing how long you can watch fire. It's this constantly changing show that's more riveting than anything I've ever seen on TV. The flames seem to dance and fly and cower and chase each-other, and disappear, and reappear. It's like this whole drama, that never stops. They say there are spirits that live in fire called salamanders, and watching the flames leap all over the place, I could almost see them in there.

Then, when the flames die down and you don't add any more wood, the hot coals and embers take on this whole other life, different from the fire, but related. They sparkle and pulse, and get redder, and then blacker, and you can take almost as long watching them as you did the fire, because they take a really long time to cool off and go out.

Jonah was as enthralled in the fire as I was. In fact, having him here was part of what made me notice all this, more than I had ever noticed it before.

When the fire was finally gone, we curled up together into two sleeping bags we had zipped together, and it was so cozy. The night air brushed our faces, and our body heat was already rising. In fact, we had to unzip the side halfway down to get enough air.

We didn't need a tent tonight. The sky was perfectly clear, and as black as could be. There was no moon, so the stars were out like a horde of insects. I had never seen so many! All the constellations like the dippers and Cassiopeia, and the planets, big and colored, and the whole Milky Way, and a few shooting stars to make wishes on. I couldn't really come up with any wishes though, except that this would never end.

The crickets lent their lullaby to our retiring, and Jonah kissed me sweetly, gently, lazily good-night...

And he kissed me and kissed me...

And then his tongue got deeper and hungrier, and his hand slipped up my side, massaging my ribs and my waist; and we took off what little clothes we had on, and it felt so much better to be naked in the summer air.

And I felt like the breeze was making love to me too, grazing my breast, tickling my pubic hair and the insides of my knees and elbows, where I was starting to perspire. So I massaged his back and his sides and his chest, sucking his taut nipples into my mouth, then mouthing his chest and down his belly, and closing over the spongy tang of his shaft, bobbing as he moved to give me access.

He spread his legs and I knelt between them, cupping his balls, rubbing them gently, moving up and down with my mouth and squeezing whenever I reached the tip.

He was getting tense, and I knew he was close, but I wanted it to go on, so I withdrew, giving the air time to subdue him a little.

Then I straddled him, moving my legs over his one at a time, and squatted over his mound, bringing it just to the entrance of my tunnel. I was the jungle, and he was the machete. He had to push through, pierce and conquer. Valiantly, he sallied forth.

I sat on his hips and leaned over, placing my hands on either side of his head, and he suckled my breasts as they hung over him. Then I rode him like I had done that very first time. He grasped my breasts and pushed them against my chest as they jiggled with my carousel rhythms.

Then he rolled me over, still inside, and finished me off with his gyrating hips. The pressure peaked and I groaned loudly, releasing it all with shouts and wails. I was louder than I had ever been before. And the black sky and the river heard me gladly, and didn't complain. Then he cried out too, and we were consummate.

* * * *

We woke early, and the air was thin, the light was thin, the bird voices thin, the sounds of the river thin. I pulled some fuzzy stretch pants and a sweatshirt on and found a place to pee.

Jonah built a fire to heat water for tea and cocoa, and to cook oatmeal. He was really good at fires. That was nice, because I was dreadful at it, and never built a fire myself unless there was no one else to do it. I would even go without a fire and just bury myself under blankets and eat sandwiches if I was by myself. This was so much better.

We stood, hands outstretched, feeling the delicious wafts of smoke and hot air invade the cold surrounding us. The sun would be up soon, and it would get plenty hot today, but right now the dry air was cool and the fire was bliss.

So was the hot drink held in a ceramic cup without handles that warmed my hands; and the bowl of oatmeal, also held on the outside, then eaten to warm the inside.

I walked down to the river and watched the water in all its swirling, swilling, swishing, swelling, swaying, sweeping patterns. Jonah came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. We stood a long time, really still, just looking at the water.

He slipped his hands under my sweatshirt, and they were cold against my skin. I squealed and pushed them away, but he planted them on my belly, and pretty soon they were getting warm again. I liked him treating my body like it belonged to him, the way a child artlessly imposes upon its mother, without a second thought.

The sun was coming up over the cliff, the light spreading over the trees and bushes nearby. We packed up our things - the fire had been small and was already out - and secured the car. Then we shouldered the backpacks and started up the trail.

His legs were much longer than mine, so we didn't hike together, exactly. We just stayed in the same vicinity. The trail wound around and crossed the river in numerous places. Sometimes I would take a rest, then I'd pour on the effort, and find him reclined against a tree in a little grassy spot. So we were never very far away from each-other. Besides, there was pretty much just one way to go if you followed the trail, so I didn't figure I could lose him.

The sun and the heat mounted, and I had to stop and change into shorts and a tank top. I had my favorite boots on with super-absorbent socks, so I was all set. Jonah went barefoot most of the way. I envied him that, but my feet were too tender, and I didn't have the time to toughen them up. Besides, I didn't really want to. They'd get all rough and calloused. I liked how soft they were. Much better in the sleeping bag at night.

We stopped for lunch when the sun was overhead in a shaded grassy area right next to the river. The cheese was all melty in our sandwiches, but it tasted really good. We had fruit and carrots to munch on, and Jonah ate about half the bag of tortilla chips. I hoped I had brought enough food.

After lunch, we splashed in the river. He peeled off his clothes and found a pretty deep swimming hole to skinny dip in. The water was too cold for me to get very deep, but I waded close to where he was and marveled at his ruggedness.

Then we pushed on, arriving at the lookout that led down to the hot pools with plenty of light left. It was perfect. We could cook dinner and still get to the pools easily by dusk.

I knew I'd be sore tomorrow from all this hiking, but the hot water would help take the kinks out, and it was wonderful to be here. We hadn't seen a soul on the trail. We had the place to ourselves.

We had chili for dinner - made with a powdered mix and river water. The water purifier was ideal. We couldn't have hiked with the weight of drinking water it would take to bring in. Jonah finished off the other half of the chips, and a lot of the trail mix I had packed. He wasn't into rationing food like me, but I figured it was up to him to come up with a solution if he was going to eat it all the first day.

It didn't look like we needed the tent again, so we just laid the sleeping bags out and headed to the trail that would take us to the hot pools. It was very winding, back and forth along this rather steep rocky hill thing. Jonah took my hand at the steepest parts and helped me down over some tall rocks.

Finally, we reached the pools. The sun was sinking in the west, and the breezes already felt cooler. The river ran nearby, so we took our clothes off and dipped into it, and the wind cooled our wet skin pretty fast after that. We waded into the hot pool, and it was scalding. But I stood in one spot, absolutely unmoving, and just let the heat prickles travel into my feet and up my legs. After a while, I could go a little further and a little further. Slowly, my body adjusted to the heat. I got out for a few minutes and sat on the sand. Then when I got back in, it didn't feel as hot.

Jonah was floating on his back, immersed in the steaming water. His eyes were closed and he made an interesting sight, with his brown head of hair, his dark and fuzzy whiskers, his tan face, the queues of wet hair that trailed down his arms and legs, the white skin of his torso, the dark arrow that angled down his belly, the mass around his hose, and the hose itself, which just sort of floated limp and undirected in the water.

I had never viewed him like this - sort of displayed in front of me - for so long. In fact, I don't know that I had ever viewed any man like this. Paul's father and I had never gone swimming or in a hot tub in the nude. I sat, just sort of staring, studying him.

I slipped down into the water, immersing my shoulders, and the heat went straight into my aching muscles. But after a while it began to feel a little suffocating, so I sat up and let the wind dry my tangled hair and my upper body. Jonah sat up too.

The light was fading fast, but we could still see each-other, and we locked eyes for a while in silent communion. Then we stood up and the wind dried us below the waist.

Jonah reached his arms out and held my hips with his hands, pulling my belly against his groin. I curved my arms around his waist and rested my head on his chest.

We stood quiet and still, until my back started to ache from being in one position too long, and I had to move.

It was dark, and we were ready to go back to camp. We stepped out of the water onto the sand. I felt so warm from the bath, I didn't want to put my clothes on. Then I realized I wasn't sure where they were. I couldn't see them in the dark, and I felt around for a while before I located them.

"Did you bring a flashlight?" I asked Jonah.

"No."

"Neither did I. This should be interesting, finding our way back in the dark."

There hadn't been a moon last night, and there wouldn't be one tonight. It was probably a half mile trail, and hadn't been that easy to come down.

When I was at home, I had this habit of never turning on a light when I got up at night. I was used to walking around in the dark, though I sometimes bumped into things or hurt something, and told myself laughingly that I really should turn on a light. But I never did.

This was a little more daunting, but at least I had some practice at it. Besides, we didn't have much choice. So we grabbed hands and felt our way along, moving slowly and carefully. There were a few lighter shadows and some landmarks along the way that helped. Jonah seemed to remember a lot about how the trail went, and I had the feeling this wasn't the first time he had found his way in an unfamiliar place in the dark.

We made slow progress, and I felt swallowed up in the blackness, groping for the tree branches next to the trail, shuffling my boots along the ground to detect anything in the pathway, bumping against rocks, finding the right direction. It was sort of fascinating. I did the best when I quit trying to figure it out, and just let my body intuit where to go.

Time disappeared, and we just put one foot in front of the other over and over again. I was excited when I realized that we were reaching the top, and from there camp wasn't far. But once we got to the top of the trail, the ground was more open, and we had to move even slower, feeling our way without a trail.

I bumped my knee on a sharp rock, and an unexpected branch caught me across the cheek, but I counted myself lucky that those were my only injuries.

We found the sleeping bags, crawled in, and zonked out.

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