Esther and Star Ch. 05

Her hand withdrew. "I'm—I'm in your space. Excuse me."

"No, Diane. Please don't...don't stop touching me."

We were looking at one another, but I couldn't see the expression on her face, only the shapes and contours. A silent moment passed, and she laid down, beside me. Her hand, fingers fully extended, fell on my chest and began to gently massage it.

She whispered, "How do you get so muscular working for the T?"

"There's a gym at South Station."

Her hand glided down to my stomach.

I wanted to touch her, but my injuries prevented any kind of comfortable way. I needed to be on my side—my left side—facing her, but my right shoulder was no good from the bullet wound. I wouldn't be able to reach her body without stabbing pain, and laying on my right side, of course, wasn't an option. I had to remain on my back.

"I feel like I'm in college all over again," she said, caressing my stomach.

"Why is that?"

"There's a boy in my bed in the middle of the night. He's only wearing underwear. I'm nervous."

"Diane?"

"Hmm?"

"Please don't be offended, but...but I want you."

Her hand stopped. She said, "Don't say that. You want a young woman. You want someone like my daughter."

"I want you."

A few seconds passed before she responded. "You...you're injured. You're tired. You're not thinking straight."

"Diane," I said, putting my hand over hers. "I want you." I took her hand and led it down to my underwear. Then, I placed it on my cock. Hard as marble, it throbbed in her grip.

A whisper of a gasp slipped from her lips.

I turned my face toward hers.

She didn't let go of the shaft. Her grasp upon it strengthened, and she leaned toward me.

I bent to her, and we kissed. Her lips were downy soft. A faint whimper escaped her and she drew back. "We mustn't," she whispered.

But her fingers remained latched firmly to my cock. I glanced down at her hand and back to her.

She read my message. When our eyes came together, she explained, "I don't want to let go. I—I almost forgot how they feel." Almost imperceptibly, she stroked it once.

I made a low, airy groan.

Still gripping it in one hand, Diane slid the fingers of her other hand under the waistband of my boxer-briefs. Diane said, "May I make take these off? Make your erection more comfortable?"

I nodded.

Not relinquishing her handhold, she sat up and knelt beside me. With her free hand, Diane drew my underwear from my waist. The moment she released the shaft and peeled the briefs over my cock, her other hand swept in and wrapped around it. Then, she pulled my underwear down with her free hand until I could kick it free to the foot of the bed. Diane switched hands again so that she could return to her side next to me.

It was beautiful how she wanted to hold my cock, how she traded out hands so that it never left her possession for more than a moment.

"Better?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"I haven't aggravated your injuries, have I?"

"No."

"Because I wouldn't like to do something that made matters worse for you."

"You won't."

"May I continue to hold your penis?"

"Yeah."

"And may I massage it for you? Like this?" Diane, her fingers as supple as suede, stroked my cock once.

"Uh-huh."

Her face came towards mine as her fingers resumed a slow kneading and stroking motion. When I turned to her, she whispered, "Put your head back and relax."

I did, and Diane kissed my cheek, my chin, my nose, my temple, and my forehead. She planted her lips softly, and each time, I heard the faintest smack. From my forehead, her lips fell back down to my jaw, and then my neck. Once there, she latched onto the tender skin and sucked, uttering a sweet moan.

I smelled a hint of vanilla. Her skin was smooth, soft, and cool to the touch. Mine was hot, rigid, and rugged. Where we touched, the two textures seemed to mingle together in thrumming perfection.

She broke away from my neck and lay her head upon my chest like a pillow. Still undulating her hand up and down my cock, she asked, "Would I hurt you if I made love to you?"

"You won't hurt me."

She let go of my shaft. The sudden absence of her touch there was the only ache I felt.

I listened to Diane tug her panties away. She rose to her knees beside me. Looking down at my face, she drew the sides of her satin gown up to her hips.

Before she could mount me, I slid my left hand between her legs. She watched, spreading her knees apart for me.

The skin of the insides of Diane's thighs was supple and yielding. I felt as if my hand had found Diane's secret. Underneath the cool, no-nonsense exterior that years of single motherhood had taught her, there was the softest, lushest warmth and tenderness between her legs. I drew breath at the wetness I felt when my fingers glided through the wispy hairs and along the vulnerable flesh of her pussy.

I watched Diane's eyes fixate on the place where my hand explored. Her chest filled with air, and when my middle finger slid inside her, her head tipped toward the ceiling and she huffed, "Oh, my word."

Her hips began to gyrate on my hand, and Diane moaned at the ceiling.

The longing ache of my cock made me stop and withdraw my finger. Diane knew what I wanted. She straddled my body, reach behind her ass, and grabbed my cock. Guiding it into position, she lowered herself toward it until I felt her hairs on the tip. She gasped when the plum head nestled inside the gap, hugged on each side by her labia.

Then, placing both hands on my chest, Diane lowered herself. She wasn't tight like Esther; she was incredibly wet and comfortably snug. I was fully inside her a moment later, and the sudden pleasure rocked me. My stomach clenched. My head rose from the pillow, and I grunted her name.

Diane gasped. Adjusting herself very slightly, she settled into position and rode me one time, up and down. On the downstroke, she issued a cry of such satisfaction that my heart ached to hear it. Then, Diane's head and chest sank down onto mine as if she had fallen on a sword.

"Don't move," she whispered. "Let me—let me feel it this way for a bit."

I wrapped my arms around her back, stroking her skin through the silky gown. Remembering something, I slid my fingers down her lower back and clutched the fullness of her ass. "Fuck, Diane," I whispered.

"Yes," she muttered. She pushed herself up. "I like the sound of your voice. Will you say my name while I make love to you?"

I nodded, and she began to undulate on my cock.

I said her name. I told her to fuck me. I told her to fuck my cock.

She never once cursed, but she seemed to like it when I did. Even more, she loved it when I uttered her name. Each time appeared to usher her to some newer, higher level of pleasure.

I cannot lie; I was torn. A part of me was in pain. The bed shook with her undulations, and my right shoulder jabbed with agony every time she impaled herself. Another part of me was thinking that it was, far and away, the greatest fuck of my life.

This pronouncement didn't amount to much, however. I had only had sex with Esther, and that apparently had never gone well for her.

Now, I knew. As Star taught me with kisses and touches, I tried to read Diane. I felt the motion she liked, the angle and pace. I barely moved, letting her seek out her own pleasure, but I read. I listened. I felt and committed it to memory.

Suddenly, she cried, "Now, together. Push with me."

I did. My injured shoulder felt like a knife twisted into the muscle, but I clutched Diane's ass and, following her lead, drove my cock as she mauled onto me.

She hollered, "Yes!" and her voice leaped an octave higher.

I called her name and her face plummeted to mine. Her tongue dove into my mouth, and she moaned her orgasm down my throat.

If it had not been for the pain in my shoulder, her pleasure was so spectacularly beautiful and feminine that I would have been cumming right along with her.

As it was, her body slowed and then sagged onto mine. Her face snuggled into my neck, and she panted there.

I remained still, letting her come down.

When she seemed completely tranquil, I flexed my cock inside her, and she moaned. I did it again; Diane snatched a breath. Again, and she whispered, "I can't do it, love. You must do it yourself."

I smiled, despite the lingering pain, at her formality. "I can, Diane, but I need to be behind you."

She gasped at my words, but not as if they offended her—more like they excited her. She rose and drew herself from my cock. Without a word, she crawled around on her hands and knees. When she stopped, she arched her back, presenting her ass, and she craned her face around to watch me.

I got up to my knees behind her, savoring the moment. I had never once had Esther in this position. I wanted it for so long, but it never happened. Now, here it was—a woman on her knees, giving me her pussy from behind. Blood surged through me.

She watched as I raised the bottom hem of her gown over her ass. She watched me squeeze her apart and peer inside at her most intimate place. She watched me lean down and kiss the smooth flesh of one curvy cheek. She watched my head vanish from view.

For the first time in my life, my tongue tasted pussy, and it was good.

Diane sighed with pleasure.

I wanted to stay there, but the urge to fuck was overpowering, so I rose and moved closer. Taking my cock, I angled it into the warm, wet place. Then, I took her hips and plunged back inside her. A part of me wanted to experiment and find what satisfied her from this new angle, but a much greater part simply wanted to satisfy myself and bask in the fulfillment of this long-awaited desire.

I used her body to maximize my own pleasure, taking myself to the brink of orgasm three times, only to ease back, relax, and start anew.

The beautiful thing is Diane liked it—really liked it. Not the first time, but every time after, when I was on the verge of cumming, she was, too.

After the third close call, Diane's energy seemed to exhaust. Her body began to slide forward so that the only part of her in the air was her ass. I leaned forward to remain inside her. Soon, I was supporting my body with my one good arm.

It was now, I decided.

That decision made, it became a race between the strength of my left arm, supporting my weight, and the ever-mounting need to cum.

Diane must have sensed this new energy. Her pants became moans, her moans turned into cries. It sent me over. With every muscle in my body flexing, I drove myself inside her for the last time and let go.

I cursed at the exquisitely sharp satisfaction of it—of feeling my body fire into hers. Diane's hand squeezed the sheets, and her teeth bit down on her knuckles as she cried out.

We sank together, me on top of her. Both of us panted. A minute later, I rolled off of her body onto my back.

I listened to her fall asleep, and then I covered her with the comforter. Throwing my arm over her tummy, I drew up close with her.

Sometime in the night, I grew cold. I slid inside the comforter behind her.

I woke just before ten in the morning, thinking I'd heard something downstairs—a door maybe?

There was nothing else for some time, so I relaxed.

Diane's rhythmic breathing lulled me into a mini-sleep. I dreamed about Esther. She had broken into Diane's house and was looking for me.

When next I woke, I had become painfully hard. Diane smelled like morning sex, and I wanted her. I shifted down and slid my cock between her legs until the tip harbored snugly against her pussy.

She stirred.

I urged the tip inside.

She woke. Her voice was raspy, and she said, "No, love. Please. I'm too sore."

I pulled out. "I'm sorry, Diane. I didn't mean to..."

She spun over and kissed me. Drawing back, she smiled and said, "Last night was wonderful."

"Yeah."

I sat up, moved to the edge, and put my feet on the floor.

Diane drew up behind me. Her hand slid down my tummy and took hold of my cock. "Oh, love, you're so hard right now."

I nodded.

"Stay," she begged. "Please."

I didn't move. She did; she went to the floor on her knees between my legs. Smiling at me, she took hold of my cock and bent her head down toward the tip.

I snatched a quick breath when her lips encased the head. "Fuck, Diane."

She hummed.

The warm, wet, and velvety texture of her mouth felt like a perfect balm for the furious rigidity of my cock. "Don't stop," I urged.

My head felt dizzy, but my body energized and trembled with power.

Diane moaned. She moaned again, louder.

"It's here. Fuck," I cautioned.

I was too dizzy to care about the movement I sensed off to my right. My cock throbbed in her mouth. Her eyes closed as if in ecstasy when my cum began filling her mouth. I called her name, and she moaned into my cock.

It ended as suddenly as it began, and Dian's mouth fell open with a desperate gasp. Semen flowed from the corners of her lips as she smiled at me. I caressed her face.

Then, I remembered. I glanced to my right and froze.

Diane saw me react. She was swallowing the cum when she turned.

A young woman—Diane's daughter, Joanne, by her age and appearance—stood at the threshold of the door, one hand covering her gaping maw, the other on her belly.

"Joanne!"

The word awakened the young lady. Her face instantly turned pink and she vanished, shutting the door behind her. I heard hasty footsteps through the hallway and down the stairs.

"Excuse me," Diane said, shooting to her feet and scrambling for her bedroom door. Her voice echoed in the hallway. "Joanne!"

I was able to pull on my underwear. I left Diane's bedroom and stood at the top of the stairs, wondering how this might play out. I could hear them in the kitchen.

"I can't talk to you right now." Joanne snapped.

"Why ever not?"

"You have cum on your face, Mom!"

"Oh, goodness, I apologize."

I heard the sink running, and a moment after it shut off, Joanne said, "Why didn't you tell me you had somebody here? Oh, my gosh!"

"I didn't know you were coming."

"I told you I wanted to come home for you—wait. Who is that guy?"

Diane didn't respond for a moment. "He's the young man who..."

"Is that the guy who...?"

"Yes. Him."

"That guy? The bookstore hero? I just saw you suck off the bookstore hero?"

"Don't be coarse, Joanne, but yes."

"Mom, he's barely older than I am!"

"I know dear, but..."

"Did he...he spent the night here, didn't he?"

"Yes. Listen, I know I have a lot of explaining to do, but please don't leave. Don't go. I need to see you. I really do. I wish the timing had been different, for course, but don't go."

"I can't stay here! What? And meet him or something? Absolutely not."

"But, he's..."

"I don't care if he saved your life, Mom. He saw me—I just saw his penis, and it was in your mouth. He doesn't want to see me, and I don't want to see him. 'Oh, hi, nice to meet you! Did you enjoy my mother's blowjob?'"

"Don't be so dramatic, Joanne. Let me talk to him and explain things. It will be fine, I promise you. Just don't leave."

Silence for a few seconds, and then, "Fine. Whatever."

I tip-toed back into Diane's bedroom.

I was about to close the door when I hear Joanne again. "Wait. Mom."

"What is it?"

"Before you go back upstairs, can you tell me something?"

"Go ahead."

I sneaked back to the top of the stairs, listening.

"I mean, I thought you said...you told me when I was in eighth grade that you were all done with..."

Diane said, "I meant what I said when I said it. This was...it was unexpected."

"But, does this mean that you might...?"

"I don't know, dear. There are so many things in my head right now."

Joanne waited, it seemed.

Diane said, "Maybe."

Joanne cried out in joy; Diane laughed.

"Mom, this is good! This is great! I want you to be happy. I don't want you to be all lonely here."

"Nothing is decided, Joanne. And certainly not him. He's lovely, but he's practically a boy yet, so don't get any crazy ideas."

"How long has it been?" Joanne asked in a gossipy tone. "Ooh, was he good?"

I didn't hear Diane's response, but she said or did something because a moment later, the entire house was filled with the uproarious laughter of both mother and daughter.

I went back to the bedroom.

A few minutes later, Diane entered the room carrying a plate with several items on it. She set them down and asked, "Are you upset with me, love?"

Was I? She had just told her daughter—as I understood it—that I was "certainly not" the man for her. But, her decision, it seemed, had nothing to do with things I could control. Rather, it was my age.

I wasn't sure how to feel. I liked Diane. I wanted her, but did I really know her? Did I want to date someone with a daughter that was almost my age?

Had I really given up on Esther? I was separated, but still technically married, so I had just cheated on her. But, Esther cheated first, hadn't she?

Diane's question, however, was not about the things I had overheard. She was asking about her daughter's intrusion.

Finally, I responded, "No. It's okay. She okay?"

"She's a bit stunned, to be frank."

"And you?"

"Embarrassed a little, but we spoke and things are fine," she explained. She shook her head sadly and said, "I do apologize."

"Forget about it, Diane."

Accepting this, it seemed, Diane brought the plate to me, saying, "I brought you your medicine, and I thought you might want to shower."

There was a pill, a small glass of water, a square of cellophane and medical tape on the dish.

"Thanks," I said. "Do you...would you want to shower with me?"

She smiled, but it vanished quickly. Glancing at the bedroom door, she turned back to me and said, "Perhaps it's best I don't."

"I didn't mean—you know—sex in there or anything, not while your daughter is here. I just meant that it might be faster that way and that...that I like you."

That I didn't mean sex was probably untrue because the moment I got a look at her, wet and naked, I would have wanted her. I liked Diane's body; I didn't care how old she was, but I hadn't really gotten to see it during the night. I wanted to see it all, and I wanted to lick her pussy for a long, long time.

"That's very thoughtful, and I do need a wash. Better I wait until you're finished."

***

Meeting Joanne was not as uncomfortable as I expected. She was gracious and kind, hugging and thanking me for what I had done at the bookstore. She didn't pry or ask for a recapitulation of the event. Afterward, the three of us ate breakfast together. Joanne was even a bit flirty, although it seemed less like a genuine interest in me and more like a way to jest with her mother.

Diane asked, "Joanne, has there been anything on the news this morning?"

"About him?"

"Yes."

"Well, yes, actually. They read his personal statement on the air," she responded. Pausing a moment, she looked at me and said, "You wrote that here!"

I nodded.

Diane suggested I check my email. I did.

The woman from the Globe had written back, thanking me for the statement. She urged me to reconsider a private interview, but was willing to respect my wishes. She was aware that all of the local news stations had received the same statement, and as far as she understood, there was a general consensus to leave me in peace. No guarantee, she added at the end.

"You can read it, " I told Diane, getting up.

I went to check my phone, dreading the number of missed calls, texts, and voice mails that I was sure to have missed. My phone's battery had died.

Fine with me.

Diane and Joanne read the email together. Diane said, "It worked!"

Turning to me, Joanne asked, "Why don't you want to talk to the...?"

Her mother interrupted. "Joanne, that's a private matter for him."