tagNovels and NovellasMy Son's Best Friend Ch. 07

My Son's Best Friend Ch. 07


The phone rang. It was Margaret.


I think I'd forgotten I had a best friend. I think she'd been out of town or something. God, the last time I'd seen her had been on another planet!


"Yeah, I'm fine - good. I'm good.

"...not much. Not much. How about you?

"Un-hunh. Uh-hunh. Uh-hunh. Yeah, we should definitely do that. Definitely. Okay. Okay. 'Bye."

I hung up the phone and sank into a chair. Oh God! This wasn't so easy. I wanted to tell her. I didn't want to tell her. Oh God!

Jonah came in from the living-room. He went behind my chair and crossed his arms over my chest, kissing my hair.

I jumped up, knocking my head into his tooth.





We were both in pain, me rubbing my head, him holding his tooth.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" I exclaimed. "I'm sorry!"

He just looked at me.

I went to the freezer for an ice cube, wrapped it in a cloth, and put it on my head.

"Ow. Ow...Are you okay?" I asked.

He nodded, still holding his tooth.

"You want some ice?"

He shook his head.

I sank down into the chair again, and the tears welled up. Ow! My head really hurt bad!

I sat there crying, and Jonah just kind of stared, befuddled.

"I'll be okay," I managed to utter. "Go on." I motioned him back to the living-room.

He left, and I felt so sad. What was I going to do? What was I going to tell Margaret? Jonah was becoming a fixture in my life now. He was over all the time - spent the night most nights.

We were living in this little, safe bubble, and most of the time, the rest of the world wasn't even there. Paul was getting used to being with us, and we were getting used to being around him, and it was working - better than I had ever thought possible!

I really didn't think anyone suspected anything. We were living quiet little lives, out of the view, below the radar.

But Margaret was a true friend. I didn't want to lie to her. But she also had some prudish attitudes, and I didn't think she would understand this.

Besides, telling her meant the circle was growing, and I didn't like that idea. It wasn't safe. The more people who knew, the easier something might leak out.

I don't know what I was so afraid of, but some part of me was terrified of being "found out".

There was no indication that there was any problem with Jonah's mother, yet in her case, I found myself always waiting on some level for the other shoe to drop.

And even with Paul, I was careful to try to give him time alone with Jonah and make sure his feathers weren't getting ruffled over anything. Sometimes I felt like it was all a perilous balancing act.

I didn't know what I wanted to tell Margaret. She'd be asking stupid grown-up questions, and I had nothing to offer her in that regard. Yes, I loved Jonah. Yes, this was more than just a fling.

But, where was it going? I hadn't a clue. Jonah didn't exactly have a lot of high aspirations and goals in his life. He seemed to be pretty much just floating along, and so far I had been content to float along with him.

I was already grown up, damn it! Why did I need to justify myself to anybody? I'd raised a kid, built a house, rebuilt my life from a divorce! I had interests! I had my garden, I read books, for God's sake! - And not just fluffy little novels. I read history, biographies, science. I knew stuff!

I pushed my breath out in a huff. What was I doing, having this imaginary argument? There was no one here but me, myself, and I, and the three certainly had a lot to say to each-other. But I'm not sure we were getting anywhere.

I'd tell her. I never could keep a secret from her. And I didn't really want to. It was too lonely that way. I'd tell her. And somehow I'd survive it.

Jonah came back in the room.

"Your show over?" I asked him.


He took my hand and led me into the bedroom. He put his arms around me, pressing me gently to his chest.

I put my head down, and he kissed near where the sore was, tiny little wispy kisses. I closed my eyes, and we swayed from side to side, dancing to noiseless music.

We lay on the bed, and he kissed me softly all over my face, my neck. Unbuttoning my shirt, he kissed down my chest, my breasts, my not-so-firm-any-more belly. Then he went to my feet and kissed my toes, my instep, my ankles. My calves, the hollow of my knees, my thighs, pushing my skirt up.

He peeled off his clothes and pulled mine off, and crouched between my legs, nibbling all the fleshy folds, tickling my clit with the tip of his tongue, then thrusting it into my opening, closing his mouth over it all, and sucking.

His hands meandered back up my legs, my hips, my belly, my sides, till he reached my breasts, still sucking my cunt. There was an advantage to having long arms! Cupping them from the sides, his hands glided over them toward the middle, then grasped the nipples. The streams were flowing, and I smiled at the smacking noises his mouth was making. I knew he was enjoying himself.

He lifted his body up over mine and covered me, pushing his cock inside, kissing my mouth, sharing all the musty flavor of where he had just been.

His tongue pushed as deep as his cock, and he began the long, slow trek up the hill, pumping, pumping, pumping his hips; building gradually, closer, closer to the top. I liked this gentle cadence, taking me smoothly and tenderly where I wanted to go.

The orgasm built and built and built until it melted over us like warm honey, almost seamless, seeping into all the rough and craggy places.

"It's right," I thought to myself. "This is so right. It's so right for us to be together...

"Margaret will see that. Surely, she'll see..."

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