Josh Knows Best Ch. 09

Many thanks to JordanJohnson for his editing assistance. Any errors remaining are mine alone. Please enjoy. As always, let me know what works and what needs improvement.

Peace.



I groaned when I awoke the next morning. It took me a minute to realize it was Sunday. And another to realize even if it wasn't, I was no longer a high school student. As that sense of relief and weirdness wafted over me, I remembered that neither mom nor I had work today. My groan gave way to a sigh and a smile.

I rolled over, looking for mom. She was lying on her side, back toward me, sheet kicked off. Her ponytail had come loose and her still dark hair was a mass of chaotic waves. Losing her hair during chemo hit us both hard. One would think, in the scheme of things, losing your hair would have been trivial. It was not.

Now I understand our grief over the loss of her hair was nothing but a synecdoche for the larger despair we felt over the incomprehensible unfairness of her cancer; of being parted from each other by fate rather than choice.

The coming tragedy was unimagined as I laid in bed that morning, one hand trailing lightly over her back, hip and butt. She murmured, still lost in sleep. I knew if I stayed in bed, I would wake her. She needed her rest more than I needed her body. I got out of bed, careful to avoid jostling her, and left the room as noiselessly as possible.

There was cold coffee left in the pot. I grabbed a glass and did my best to add a few ice cubes without making any noise. A healthy, or unhealthy, I suppose, dollop of half-n-half, plus the cold coffee and I was set.

Sitting on the sofa, atop the hand towel I now carried around as a matter of course, I set my iced coffee on the floor and picked up Old Filth. I had been happily surprised to see our small library had a copy. I was not sure if mom was serious about more skinny dipping, but Ms. Porter intrigued me. I want to have at least read one of the books she recommended.

I was not sure about it at first. It opened with what read more like stage directions than a novel. It did not take long before my apprehensions were left by the wayside. I had read nearly a hundred pages, the ice in my coffee long crunched into nothingness, when I realized mom was standing in front of me.

"You and your books," she said with a smile.

"I think you'll like it, too," I offered as I rose and folded her into my arms. "Last night was amazing. Thank you."

"I should thank you. I nearly allowed your father to ruin something I have found I enjoy. Quite a lot actually." She stepped back and patted my chest twice with the flat of one hand. "Come on. I'll make us breakfast."

I wish I could tell you what we ate but I cannot. I am appalled at how little, how very little, we remember of our lives.

†

After breakfast, we showered together. We soaped each other's bodies. Mom first. I rinsed her off and kissed her, fondling her breasts, her pussy. I coaxed her to put one foot up on the rim of the tub and knelt. I took my time, sucking and licking, until she came.

Another lost and, at the time, unappreciated facet of youth - the ability to kneel on hard surfaces and then get back up again without groaning.

Mom recovered then washed me. By then the hot water was beginning to fade. She shut off the shower but made no move to get out.

Pushing the shower curtain aside, she sat atop a folded towel on the rim of the tub. With soft hands, she guided me into position. One leg was between hers, the other foot rested on the edge of the tub.

She cupped my balls in one hand. She had trusted me with her ass. I trusted her with my balls. She fondled me, seemingly by magic knowing when to stop, when the ache of her squeezes and tugs became too intense.

Moving her hands and resting her cheek on my belly, she stoked my butt.

"Are you still sore?" she asked, kissing the point where my thigh merged into my lower belly.

"A little," I admitted. "But only if I forget and scoot or lean hard against something. I don't mind. It was fun." I paused. "I'd like to do that again sometime."

"Are you sure?"

I nodded. "Definitely. It was incredibly intense. The stinging and burning in my ass seemed to amp up every sensation yet, somehow, narrowed my focus." I shook my head. I was not making sense. "I was aware of less but what I was aware of was more intense, more real."

Mom nodded then tilted her body forward to take my cock in her mouth. I watched her cheeks flatten as my dick disappeared down her throat. She gazed up at me, watching me watch her. Pulling back, she bent forward and suck one ball into her mouth.

It hurt a little, especially when she sucked or tugged, but it was a good ache. She let that one go and then took the other in her mouth. All the while her hand floated over my cock.

I thought having my balls sucked on was my new experience for the day.

Nope.

She sat back and smiled at me. I tried to smile. Maybe I managed to. I don't know. I was lost in the wonder of her smile and the feel of her hand on my cock.

"Turn around, Josh."

I was confused but obeyed.

"Leaned against the wall."

I did as she asked and waited. Her hands stroked the outside of my legs, up over my hips.

She kissed the cheek of my butt.

"Did I spank you too hard, love?"

"No, ma'am. I deserved it," I whispered.

"Perhaps," she whispered back as her kisses continued.

Her hands went to my butt cheeks. "Arch your back a little, baby," she instructed. She spread my cheeks.

She kissed my hole.

I freaked and jerked away and twisted to look at her. She was still smiling but there was a hint of challenge behind the smile.

"I want to show you how good it feels," she said, rubbing the sides of my legs again. "I washed you. You're all clean." She cocked her head and the smile faded. "And it's not gay, if that's what you're worried about."

I didn't say anything but, like a sorceress, she was always able to read my thoughts.

"Oh, Joshua. How silly. Really? You have the same nerve endings in your perineum as I do. Just as you have the nerves in your nipples. You enjoyed me playing with your nipples. I don't have to ask if that is true; it was obvious. Was enjoying that gay?" She continued to rub my legs. "I think you would enjoy it but if you would rather not, I understand."

"You won't put anything in me? Your finger or anything?"

The smile re-blossomed. "Not until you ask me too," she said, with the most adorable smirk on her face.

I nodded, turned, and leaned into the wall.

As was often the case, she was right. I did enjoy it. I enjoyed it more when she reached between my legs and fondle my balls. More still when she reached around and began to stroke me.

I came, hard, with mom tonguing my butt.

This one memory I am absolutely sure of.

†

"Stop over thinking it," mom told me, once more reading my mind.

Breakfast over, we were sitting at the table sipping a second cup of coffee.

"You get that from me," she continued. "Having your butt played, and enjoying it, does not mean you are gay. If you were imagining Jeff playing with your butt, you might be. Were you imaging Jeff rimming you?"

"God, no!" I spluttered, almost choking on my coffee.

"Leonardo DiCaprio? Keanu?"

"You're showing your age, mom. Those guys are no longer hot."

"Ouch," she chuckled. "Go for the throat why don't you? I beg to differ. And my point remains valid." She stood up. "Let's go to the lake. What do you say?"

"Cool. Excellent. Let's do it."

It did not take long to get ready. The day was beautiful. The sun was about halfway to the top of the sky when we spread out our blanket. No one was there.

We took a swim. The water still carried winter's chill, which made mom's nipples nearly irresistible but since we were out in public, I managed to control myself. I was ready to get out after a few minutes. I've never been much of a swimmer. Mom loved the water. She began to swim laps across the inlet.

I was toweling off my hair when I heard Ms. Porter call out a greeting. I lowered the towel and returned the greeting before I finished drying off. I made myself comfortable on the blanket, watching the sky flicker beyond the swaying tree branches, while Ms. Porter situated herself.

When I could tell she had settled herself on her towel I sat up and reached for my backpack. I retrieved Old Filth and turned to show her.

"I'm about halfway through it," I told her.

"And?" she replied.

"I love it."

"Why?"

"Eddie has had this amazing life and everyone thinks he's just a boring old fuddy duddy. The author drops all these hints, at random, and so far, hasn't returned to them. She is telling the reader there is even more to his life than she's revealing. I'm beginning to wonder if she ever will. Perhaps, just as in life, there will be parts of Eddie we will never actually know, only suspect."

"I'm glad you're enjoying it. I'll say no more. The other two books in the trilogy are good but that one is my favorite."

"I should have known you would be talking books," mom called as she made her way through the grass, looking gorgeous, body jeweled with beads of water that sparkled in the sun.

"Hello, Janice," Ms. Porter replied. "Of course, we're talking about books. What else is there to talk about? I refuse to allow politics to enter the conversation. Likewise, religion. I don't watch TV and it seems the only movies being made are from comic books, entertaining enough I suppose but hardly the sort of thing one can sink one's conversational teeth into."

Mom chuckled politely and after finishing toweling off her body sat down on the blanket, a respectable distance from me.

"So, Joshua, how does it feel to be a high school graduate?" Ms. Porter asked.

"Strange, stranger than I expected," I admitted. "Kind of sad."

She nodded then turned to rummage through her bag for her own book. "Wait until you wake up and realized high school was almost fifty years ago."

It's only been thirty years but sweet Jesus she was right. I catch myself looking in the mirror and wonder how the fuck can I be forty-eight-years-old? It seems impossible. I don't have forty-eight years' worth of memories.

Nowadays, Ms. Porter doesn't go skinny dipping at the lake. She's going strong at ninety-six, in assisted living but needing very little assisting that I can see. We make a point of visiting her at least once a week.

Like most eighteen-year-olds, thoughts of what the future had in store held little interest for me as I sat on a blanket in the sun all those years ago.

Mom slathered my back with sunscreen and I managed not to get an erection. Mom and Ms. Porter chatted for a few minutes, then Ms. Porter turned to her book. Mom stretched out on the blanket. I buried myself in my own book, afraid Ms. Porter would catch me gazing at mom's body, so beautiful, so naked and so very close.

I read. The sun continued its climb. My stomach growled. Beside me Mom chuckled.

"Hey, I protested. It has to be close to lunchtime." I marked my place and closed my book. I stood and stretched. "I'm going to go take a dip to cool off before I eat."

Mom nodded but gave no sign she was going to join me. I padded across the grass, amazed at how hot the ground had grown and waded into the deliciously chilled water. I swam a few lazy laps but mostly just floated. I was aware someone else had joined our small group in the clearing but I could not work up the energy to try to see who.

My stomach growled again. Louder. I swear it caused the water to ripple around my body. I swam a few strokes and then stood and waded out of the water. I was focused on drying off as I made my way to the blanket, and lunch, still paying no attention to the newcomer.

I was about to open the cooler when the newcomer spoke. I froze.

"Hello, Josh. I never imagined I would run into you, or Janice, here."

I forced myself to grab a coke and a sandwich. Of course, that done I had no reason, other than being gob smacked, not to sit down and return the greeting.

I managed to sit without falling. My hands were full, which prevented me from drawing attention to my nudity by putting my hands over my junk. I sat the sandwich down and popped open the Coke. I took a drink, hoping Ms. Lang would imagine I was simply really thirsty rather than stalling.

"Hi, Ms. Lang," I said, without my voice cracking. Or so I remember it anyway.

"I was telling Nora how I used to come here all the time before life got too busy," Mom said to me.

Nora was Ms. Lang's given name.

"Janice, I had no idea. I think you and I are the only ones from the school who know about this place. At least I haven't seen anyone else here the past two summers. If I had known, I would have invited you to join me."

"I've tried to get my niece to join me," Ms. Porter added. "She's declined me so far. She's not really my niece. She's the grandniece of one my oldest friends. A lovely girl. I had so hoped she would hook up with my grandnephew." She sighed. "That's before I realized he was gay." She turned to me. "Joshua, have you thought anymore about exploring bisexuality. My nephew really is a delight."

Coke spurted out of my nose. Ms. Porter was kind enough not to laugh but my mother and Ms. Lang laughed so hard tears were running down their cheeks.

I did my best not glower as I took a bite of my sandwich.

"My niece, though as I've indicated she's not really a blood relative, has been reluctant to join me here at the lake. She's afraid her parents would cause trouble. They give religion a bad name. But she's eighteen now. She said she might join me today. I do hope so. Lovely young lady. Truly."

I took another bite of my sandwich. Behind me, there was a rustling of the grass.

"Hi, Aunt Edna," a voice called.

Spraying Coke from your nose is embarrassing. Coming to within a razor's edge of being Heimliched, in the nude, by a former teacher or your mother, also nude, would have been worse.

I was able to clear the bit of ham sandwich from my airway without my companions being any the wiser.

"Oh, Margaret!" Ms. Porter called. "You did come. Everyone, meet my adopted niece, Margaret Saunders. She goes to your school. Do any of you know her?"

Mom, Ms. Lang, Maggie and I all exchanged quick glances.

"Yes, Aunt Edna, we know each other," Maggie stammered.

"Oh, how lovely," Ms. Porter announced, clapping her hands.

At the time I imagined she was clueless. Now, I suspect she already knew what many people never learn - sometimes simply ignoring a potential problem is the best approach. Act as if everything is cool and it may turn out that way.

"Here, Margaret, I brought an extra-large blanket. Make yourself at home. Did you bring anything to eat or did you eat before you came? What did you tell your parents? I hope if you fibbed you made it worthwhile. Perhaps you told them you were proselytizing to a bunch of nudists? When forced to fib it is best to stick as close to the truth as possible."

Ms. Porter, I would discover, rarely spoke unless she had something important to say. With the benefit of hindsight, it is clear she was chattering on to allow us to catch our breath and to continue the impression that four people who were casual acquaintances had no reason to fear being nude around each other.

I have to say, it turned out she was right.

Maggie didn't undress but she did sit down on the edge of Ms. Porter's blanket, as far away from me as possible. I turned my attention back to my sandwich. Mom got up to get a sandwich for herself. Ms. Lang grabbed a book and stretched out on her stomach.

She had, still has, a lovely butt.

Even Ms. Porter was quiet. For no reason, other than I was uncomfortable with the silence, I walked back to the lake and waded in. I did not swim. I dunked my head on, floated for a few minutes, then walked out. I sat on my towel beside the water and let the sun and breeze dry my body.

"Is the water still cold?"

Wondering if she would still have her clothes on, I looked over my shoulder at Maggie. She was silhouetted by the sun. I shaded my eyes with one hand. She still had her jeans and tee shirt on.

"Yeah, but warmer than it was earlier today. It feels good."

She sat on the grass with the ease and grace of youth. She looked out over the small inlet. The water, black except where the ripples reflected the gaudy white blaze of the midday sun, was mesmerizing.

"Aunt Edna will think I'm a wimp or a prude or both, if I don't join you guys."

"No, she won't," I replied, knowing I was right. "This is about freedom and that includes the freedom to not be nude." I glanced at her. "This is only my second time. If I had known you would be here, or if you were here when I got here, I don't know if I would have undressed." I shrugged. "Though, I didn't bring swimming trunks and it would be hot sitting around in my jeans."

"I have a suit on."

"You're golden, Maggie. Go in, check out the water. If you want to take off your suit later. Cool. If you don't. Still cool." I leaned toward her slightly, and in a conspiratorial whisper, added, "of course, I might have to spend the rest of the day on my stomach either way."

She looked at me, finally, with a frown.

"Ms. Porter has lectured me on the impropriety of displaying any, uh, sign of sexuality."

Her frowned deepened. I rolled my eyes.

"A boner," I explained. Maggie gasped, blushed, then laughed.

I joined her.

Still laughing, she walked back to her blanket, peeled off her tee shirt, kicked off her sandals and shimmied out of her jeans. I had been making a joke but the sight of her in a little two-piece bikini made my cock twitch. I've learned over the years that a bathing suit can be more erotic than nudity. As she walked past me and waded into the water, I beat a strategic retreat back to our blanket.

"Here, let me do your back again and you'd better take my spot; there's more shade," mom told me as a started to sit down on the blanket. I switched with her and focused on the coolness of her hands and the lotion on my back. I was able to appreciate the experience, perhaps for the first time, in a non-sexual way.

"Are you and Margaret friends?" Ms. Porter asked as I drowsed beneath mom's hands.

"Yeah, we haven't had a lot of classes together but we're both friends with Suze."

Ms. Porter gave a tsk. "That young woman needs to figure out a few things before she gets herself in real trouble. Suze, mind you, not Margaret."

"Suze is okay," I replied, feeling I had to defend my friend. "If you're talking about the graduation party, she had way too much to drink but that's unusual for her. Maggie is a good friend. She made sure Suze was okay. I'm sure Suze is mortified."

Mom squeezed my shoulder. I assumed she was approving of my defense of Suze.

"No doubt you know her better than I," Ms. Potter sighed. "I know I'm an old poop but I do believe young people are more foolish than your mother or I ever were." She paused. "And, if I do say so, I was always known as a bit of a hellion."

"That I can believe," mom laughed, handing me the bottle of lotion. "Slather up good, oh pale offspring of mine."

"Janice? Would you be so good as to go my back for me?" Ms. Porter asked.

"Of course."

Mom took care of Ms. Porter, then headed toward the lake. Ms. Lang followed her. I watched as they swam over to Maggie. I wondered what they were talking about.

"I suspect your mother is trying to determine if Margaret is suitable dating material for you," Ms. Porter said.

Are all women mind readers? I recall wondering.

"Mom knows Maggie," I replied. "Maggie hung out with me after graduation and we watched some TV."