tagNovels and NovellasMy Son's Best Friend Ch. 03

My Son's Best Friend Ch. 03


"I'm not worried about the neighbors, 'cuz they're half a mile away," I declared. "But that doesn't mean I want Paul to know - yet."

"I know," he replied.

"You do?"

"Yeah. He might be a little freaked," he admitted.


I grinned at him, and we sat and stared, quiet again. I had never talked so little with someone, and felt so good doing it. It was like treading water, floating in a timeless pool with the sun glinting overhead, disappearing into its brilliance. I just wanted to stay.

He wrapped his long limbs around me on the couch, our naked skin warm and slippery in the afternoon summer heat. The birds were chirping wildly outside the window, and a sultry breeze wafted in through the open screen. I lay my head against his chest with a sigh.

Suddenly, I bolted upright.

"What time is it?"

"I don't know," Jonah answered lazily.

I jumped up and ran into the kitchen. The clock on the stove said 6:00.

"Oh my God. Paul's due home any minute. I can't believe it's this late!"

I swept Jonah's clothes up off the floor and thrust them toward him. He was slow getting up, and I realized with chagrin that he really didn't know the meaning of hurry. But he managed to put his pants and T-shirt on, and disappear down the driveway a full ten minutes before Paul arrived.

My heart was pounding, and I ducked into my room to try to calm it before I greeted him. I banged pots and pans around in the kitchen as a distraction, conjuring ideas for dinner. I knew his growling stomach would serve to focus his attention away from me.


I felt warm and full when I climbed between the covers that night, and it wasn't from the spaghetti and meatballs I'd thrown together for Paul. I thought back to the afternoon, and when I closed my eyes, I dared to imagine Jonah lying next to me. Maybe it couldn't happen tonight, but maybe it could happen soon.

I began to wonder how I could get Paul out of the house for a night. Surely he might go to a party or spend the night with a date some time soon.

All of a sudden, all the energy I'd been pouring into staying away from Jonah was now directed toward all the ways we could start being together.

"Are you crazy? This town hasn't changed any since you decided to screw Jonah again," I lectured myself.

But I already had six ideas about how we could see each other, and it didn't seem all that difficult to manage, suddenly. In fact, I smiled a little wickedly to myself. It sounded like fun to have a secret affair that no one would suspect of little ol' me! I had an advantage that way, because I didn't look like the kind of person who would do such a thing. Why would anyone suspect me? I was just ordinary.

The most important thing was to keep it from Jonah's mother, Paul, and my best friend, Margaret. If we could do that, we'd be okay. I didn't know Jonah's mother very well, but I figured I was safe assuming she wouldn't think highly of what we were doing.

We would just have to be careful, and smart, and think ahead. In fact, I would have to be careful and think ahead for both of us, because I had the feeling Jonah was not into deceit. Neither was I, but I was smart, and this was worth it. And Jonah's quiet introversion would play to our advantage. We would find a way. I felt exhilarated!


Jonah filled my mind both night and day now. I replayed all the minutest interactions we had had with one another, both before and after that fateful afternoon when we had found ourselves alone together in my truck.

I remembered the little boy he had been when he first became friends with Paul, and how strange I had thought him then. He was different, for sure. But I hadn't known then what a river of sweetness ran below the surface. Past experience had shown me that quiet guys often carried a lot of anger behind their stoic faces. Maybe he had his anger too. And maybe he didn't.

Anyway, he definitely had some passion, and I couldn't wait to find out what else was there.

I welcomed the chance to be alone in my garden with my thoughts. I knew I couldn't see him every minute of every waking day, like I wanted to; so I just had to settle for thinking about him, planning, and finding something to do with my hands until I could get them on him again.

A few worries played around all the happy thoughts, but I didn't let them spoil the euphoria I was feeling. Yeah, there were no guarantees about how long this would last. That just meant I had to enjoy it the best I could, for as long as I could. But at least I felt confident that, however long it lasted, it could remain hidden from the view of the local morality brigade.


Luckily, I didn't have to wait too long before Jonah showed up again. He didn't have a job or anything, so his time wasn't monopolized by much that I knew of. What did occupy it was actually beyond me. I realized suddenly that I didn't have a clue how he spent his time when he wasn't with Paul. Hmmm...

The two of them came into the kitchen in the late evening, headed for the TV in the front room as usual. A quick jolt passed through my chest, headed straight south, while blood rushed to my face and pulsed suddenly behind my temples.

I didn't dare look at Jonah with Paul in the room, watching us. So I busied myself at the counter and ignored them as they passed through. The lasagna was in the oven, but I cut up lettuce and tomatoes for the salad, glad to have something to do. My clit was tingling and my legs felt weak, and I just wanted Jonah to touch me.

I was so caught up in my thoughts about him, he took me by surprise when he grasped my arm. Before I knew what had happened, he had pulled me to the wall behind the doorway and was pressed against me, filling my mouth with his tongue and kneading my ass with his persuasive hands. The thin cotton dress I had on was a flimsy barrier to his ambush, as he thrust his hand inside it to fondle my breast, tearing a button in his fervor.

"Go in your bedroom, and I'll take a bathroom break in five minutes," he breathed in my ear.

Then he adjusted his pants and collected two beers out of the fridge before returning to the living-room.

I slipped into my room, which was conveniently situated off the kitchen through a tiny hallway which also led to the bathroom, and closed the door surreptitiously.

I pulled my dress and panties off, enjoying the fact that so little material had separated me from him in the kitchen.

Then I lay naked on the bed, clutching and molding my own breast with my hand, sliding the other one into the juices already rising within me. I knew we wouldn't have much time, and I wanted to be ready when he came in.

The sound of his footsteps outside the door almost sent me over the edge, but I pulled back as he opened it and stepped inside. Dropping his pants and pulling his shirt over his head simultaneously, his red cock bounced at right angles to his flat belly as he crawled onto the bed and loomed over me.

"Do you know how hot it makes me to see you touching yourself like that?" he growled.

He seized my breasts with both hands, his elbows pressed on the bed, and his mouth swallowed my face. His cock pushed against my fingers as he drove past them and buried himself deep inside me, his balls crushed against my anus.

He moved above me hard and fast, pounding, tightening his grip as the craving intensified.

"Oh, fuck me, Jonah. Fuck me deep. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God, Jonah!"

His breath came in rough gasps as the power surged, pushing him past the point of no return. He grabbed my ass, pulling it toward him, driving through me until he had vanquished the tower and flattened it. My body thrust outward and contracted like one big muscle, squeezing him and falling, falling, falling.

We panted hard, and my dry mouth curved into an open smile as I looked into his dazed eyes.

"So," I exhaled. "You do know how to hurry."

His mouth closed over mine and I sucked his tongue. Then he pushed himself up and put his pants on. He gave me a long, deep stare before opening the door. Then he was gone, closing it carefully behind him.

I rolled to my side, closing my eyes and sighing. I didn't even care that he was gone, because I could still feel him here, his scent and weight heavy in the air around me. So what if Paul was in the other room. I didn't care about anything right now. Paul could have watched us, and I wouldn't have cared. And they could serve their own dinner.

The only thing that mattered was that I felt thoroughly and utterly fucked; wholly possessed and loved; and ready to go to sleep.

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