tagNovels and NovellasMy Son's Best Friend Ch. 05

My Son's Best Friend Ch. 05


I woke when the moon was setting, and the first rays of day were just peeking over the hill we had climbed last night.

It was so luscious to be lying next to his muscular frame, and I caressed his chest, running my hands over his brown nipples, and rubbed my foot up and down his hairy leg.

Looking around, I suddenly realized I no longer had the cloak of night to escort me home. I hadn't quite thought this through.

I sat up, wiping my face, pushing my hair back, trying to think.

"Jonah," I whispered. "Jonah!" I poked him. "I need some clothes."

He opened his eyes slowly and they met my breasts, dangling right at eye level.

"What do you have that could fit me?"

He smiled lazily. "Not much."

I got up, looking around. I picked up discarded clothing from the pile on the floor. It was all so huge!

"Uh, look in that drawer," he motioned. "I think I have a T-shirt from fourth grade in there."

I found a rather mangy faded red shirt with a hole in it. Well, it would have to do.

"Do you have any biking shorts? You know, the tight kind?"

"Uh, maybe."

I sorted through drawers, and found some spandex shorts I thought wouldn't fall off me. At least I had hips and a butt to keep them up.

Putting the outfit on, I was sure I was quite a sight. Hopefully there wouldn't be an audience this early in the morning. I carefully avoided the small mirror on his wall.

"'Bye lover," I leaned over and kissed him.

I threw the afghan over me and waltzed out the door.

I took the same path home that I had come, and hoped I was too far away for the old woman who looked out her window at me to recognize, traipsing across the hill near my house. A person could go for an early morning walk, now, couldn't they?

I snuck in through my window and curled up in my bed. Returning to sleep was a delicious prospect.


When I finally got up, Paul was gone, and I had the house to myself. I hummed, putting water on to boil for tea, washing dishes, doing laundry.

But every time I though of Jonah, it was like my body was on red alert again.

I decided I should wait till the weekend before I saw him; and when I did, he said he'd been busy, but he didn't say doing what.

When I couldn't see him, thoughts of him put me in overdrive, and my fingers reached to my own nipples, my own dark, dank cavern. The energy was compelling, and it only seemed to be getting more virulent. My idle was stuck on high, and it wouldn't downshift.

I called him on the phone one afternoon when Paul was at work.

"Jonah, I'm so hot for you, I don't know what to do with myself," I pleaded. "I swear, my body's plugged into a high voltage circuit, and I feel like I'm on overload."

"I'll be right over," he replied.

I paced the floor, waiting for him to arrive. I shoved peanuts into my mouth, crunching them nervously.

He looked through the screen of the back door at me, and I gestured, "Come in come in!"

I hugged him, holding him around his middle, and he felt so solid and good. He kissed me gently.

"Peanuts, huh."

"Yeah. You want some?"

He shook his head.

"Jonah, I..."

"Shhh," he purred.

He held my back with one large hand, and stroked my hair with the other, bumping down my blond curls.

"Shhh. You wanna lie down?"

I nodded. He took my hand and led me to the bedroom.

I lay on the bed on my back, and he lay on his side next to me. He placed his hand on my belly over my clothes.

I closed my eyes. My head and my clit were buzzing and my temples hurt. But in my belly was this solid, calm, soothing weight. As I focused on it, it seemed to draw me down into this vacuum of darkness and weightlessness. The buzzing was slipping into a drain, and I was falling off a cliff that had no bottom. Then I was in the water, swaying like a reed with the current, and I had no head.

I fell into a deep sleep, and when I woke I felt very groggy.

Jonah was in the kitchen. I called him, and he came to the door with a sandwich in his hand, chewing.

He came over and sat on the edge of the bed.

"How did you do that?" I mumbled.

"I dunno."

"Wow. You have a gift or something."

He gave me a little half-smile. Then he thrust the sandwich at me.

"No thanks. I'm not hungry." I rolled away from him. "I jus' wanna sleep..."

My words were barely audible as I drifted off again.


When I woke a second time, the room was dark and I could hear the TV in the other room.

I heard the 'fridge open.


Paul looked in through the doorway, backlit by the dim bulb in the kitchen.

"What?" he asked. "Did you say 'Jonah'?"

"No, no," I said emphatically. "A doughnut. I said I want a doughnut."

I couldn't believe I had come up with that so fast. A doughnut? Was I crazy?? I was laughing inside.

"You want a doughnut."

I grinned a little sheepishly. "Yeah. I want a doughnut. Don't you ever get cravings? The glazed ones are my favorite. But then the maple ones are good too. And the raspberry filled ones - and the cinnamon twists! I was just lying here thinking about them."

He chuckled. "You got wiped out today. You've been sleeping ever since I got home. You sick or something? You want me to feel your forehead?"

He waved his hand at me like someone who had never felt a forehead before.

"No thanks, Paul. I'm okay."

"Jonah said you weren't feeling so good."


"Yeah. He was here when I got home, eating all our food. He said he gave you a massage or something."

"Well, it wasn't a massage. He just put his hand on my stomach here, over my clothes, and I went out like a light. I really needed that rest."

"Weird." Paul made his usual blunt commentary.

"So when's 'e moving in?"


Paul smirked. "When's 'e moving in?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I just wanna know: now that you've stolen my best friend away from me, what're you gonna do with 'im?"

My face fell. I looked away and sighed.

"I'm sorry," I whined plaintively.

Paul laughed. "Relax, Mom. I'm just joking."

"You are?"

"Yeah. I'm cool with it."

"Really?" I was incredulous. "How did you...? Where did you...?" I looked at him, puzzled.

"Mom, you've been trippin' lately. You think I didn't notice? You think I didn't see the electric fuzzies in the air between you and Jonah?"

"Oh, God. I thought I was hiding it so well..."

"Besides, he told me."

"He told you?...Oh God. I'm undone. I'm finished in this town..."

Paul chuckled again. "Relax, Mom. It's not the 1950's, y'know."

"Oh, I can't face this," I complained, pressing my fingers to my eyes.

"Nobody knows, Mom. Nobody but me and the flies on the wall."

"You really think so? You don't think anyone sees the big red letter "A" plastered across my chest?"

He laughed at me again. "I was just joking Mom, really. I didn't know until he told me."

"You mean it?"

"Yeah. I knew you were a little distracted, but I thought maybe you just had your period, or got a bill in the mail, or something. Women are always crazy. You never know what's bugging 'em."

"Well, thanks. That's reassuring."

"Sure. Any time."

"You really don't mind that I'm seeing Jonah?"

"Hell, I wish I had a steady date. Yeah, I'm a little freaked. But I'll get over it.

"Who am I to stand in the way of his happiness - or yours."

"Wow. I'm blown away, Paul. Thank you."

"Yeah, whatever. American Idol's on. I gotta go."

"Goodnight, Paul," I called as he disappeared.

I noticed then that the afghan was stretched over me. I pulled it down, took off my clothes, and climbed between the sheets.

But I couldn't get back to sleep, so I got up, threw on my robe, went to the bathroom, and raided the 'fridge for leftovers. Now I was hungry.

With my tummy full and my head empty, finding sleep again was amazingly quick and easy.

* ***

Jonah came over the next night and he and Paul landed in the front room as usual. They invited me to join them, but I had no interest in what they were watching. I did the dinner dishes, and was just draining the sink when Jonah came in.

"Beer's in the 'fridge," I announced.

He pressed his legs and torso against my backside and whispered in my ear, "I know where the beer lives."

I laughed and stopped mid-movement with the dishrag.

His hands slid around to the front of my skirt and cupped my pubic bone, while he kissed my hair. Then he took both hands and covered my breasts, squeezing them, pulling me back toward him.

"Jonah," I scolded. "Paul's in the other room."

"That didn't stop you before," he murmured.

"Yeah, but he didn't know anything that night. Now he knows. He'll know what we're doing!"


"So maybe that's a little uncomfortable for him. Go finish your movie, and come find me when he goes to bed."

Jonah let go then and got the beer.

I went to my room. My blood was racing, and I was sorry I had sent him away. But I was right to be concerned about Paul. He was being a sport about this; but Jonah was his best friend, and I knew if we stepped too far up on his toes, he'd squeal. We could share.

I found a book to occupy myself.

It was late and I was asleep by the time Jonah tiptoed into my room. The door squeaked behind him, and the floor creaked under his feet. I was turned toward the wall opposite the bed, and he climbed in behind me, naked.

Easing his hands around to my breasts, he closed over them and breathed in my ear, "Now, where were we?"

I put my hands over his and nuzzled my head back. He buried his face in my hair, and I could feel his erection growing against my backside.

"Take my gown off," I requested.

Together, we pulled it up over my head and dropped it on the floor, my hair falling in ringlets over my face and splaying across the pillow. He kissed the back of my exposed neck, and licked it, flicking his tongue in quick little motions.

He closed the gates again, sealing me into his fortress. He held me very still, and I could feel the heat oozing out of his skin into me. We weren't moving, yet below the surface, blood was surging and neurons were tingling.

Slowly, he began to push his pelvis forward, jabbing me softly with his foil. He was moving in slow motion, and his half-time movements created double-time sensations inside me.

Holding me across the chest with his arm, he took his other hand and ran his finger through the wet spot, moving it all the way back to my asshole. He left it there, just touching lightly, and I started to groan. How could so little movement move me so much?

He pressed ever so gently, and my entire gonads were on fire. He was touching one spot, and I felt overtaken by him. He tightened his arm across my chest, heightening the tension. Had he really never done this before? I found it hard to believe.

He spit on his hand and rubbed it all over his penis. Sliding it against my crack, he pushed the tip forward. It paused ever so slightly as it slid past my anus and into the drenched well beyond it. Then he began to slide in and out, pressing the top against my asshole.

He took both hands and circled my waist, holding me in place, his hands tight with the same tension I could feel from his pelvis, thrusting heavily.

I groaned. Groaned again. Oh...I could feel him moving deeper and deeper. It wasn't just his penis. It wasn't just physical. I could feel his pulsations moving through my belly, up my torso, through my chest, making my head spin. The fire was spreading, snaking, flying into my arms, my legs, my fingers and toes. I was consumed, and I knew that when he was finished, I would be nothing but ash.

"Ash-hole," I laughed to myself.

Then I quit thinking, and all I could do was feel. It was like going into the interior of a TV screen with snow on it; I could feel the sizzling snow cracking and popping around me. And that heat. That incredible hot molten tip, so hot it was almost cold, spreading like lava from a volcano, melting everything, everything, everything.

He gripped me tighter, and I knew it was coming. And I didn't know what it was. And I wanted to run away from it. And I wanted to run into it. It was coming! It was coming!

Then it blew, and I knew his jism was shooting straight through my body and out the top of my head, and out my fingertips and toes, raining down around us, filling the room, pouring down and making a river which carried the bed away to Neverneverland. And we were floating down the river, and Captain Hook would never catch us, and the crocodile couldn't hurt us because we were already inside his belly: floating, floating, floating...

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