My Son's Best Friend Ch. 13byCheleste©
It was late in the day, and Jonah was off doing - something. I was straightening up a little around camp, and I picked up his jacket. I sat down on the ground, hugging it, feeling really good about him and us and everything.
There was a crackling sound as I crushed the pocket, holding the jacket close.
I opened it, and there was a folded paper inside. It looked old and worn.
Hmmm. My mother's famous words echoed in my ears about respecting other people's privacy. Of course, she had blatantly and self-righteously broken those rules by going through some of my things when I was a teenager, but they were still emblazoned on my brain.
But Jonah was my lover. He was becoming my best friend (sorry, Margaret - he'll never replace you - you know what I mean). And I didn't even know if he cared if I looked. It was probably just a receipt or something. And if it turned out to be something else - something private - I didn't have to tell him I'd seen it.
So I took it between my thumb and forefinger, and unfolded it.
It was a poem, almost unreadable in the creases, but I could make it out.
she drops her rose red petals behind her and i collect them one by one in her wake wake up i'm dreaming it won't be long now i curl up into her womb sucking sucking sucking she turns me inside out and i'm bleeding bleeding bleeding i die in the rain dripping dripping dripping melting into the river that gushes out of her womb then i'm gone
I sat, a little stunned. I folded it up carefully, and put it back in.
Why was it there? Did he bring it to share with me, or did he just carry it around all the time? Was it about me? The dream goddess? His mother? Someone else? The paper looked like it had been written a long time ago; or if it had been written recently, it had gone through rain, or a lot of foldings and unfoldings, or something.
Well, I felt guilty for looking at something that was so obviously private, but I also felt glad I had seen it. It was another clue to this enigmatic person that I was falling in love with more all the time. He was deep, and I loved that.
I didn't know what the poem meant. I didn't know if it was a celebration, or a lament. I didn't know if he knew what it meant. But that was just the point. Jonah was so intriguing because he was enigmatic. I could never peg him. There was always an unexpected turn, a mystery to him.
But the mysteries weren't frightening, I was beginning to discover. The surprises were usually good ones, and it seemed that at the bottom of most things was this sweetness that was really rare in this world.
* * * *
Jonah made dinner again that night, and it was even better than the first one, though we didn't make love to it. He stewed the meat with the vegetables this time, cooked it longer, and it was more tender.
I felt sad to think we would have to go home tomorrow. I said so to Jonah.
"Then don't go," he returned.
"But I planned to return tomorrow, and I told Paul so in the note," I argued.
"So? Does Paul need you for something?"
"Well, no. In fact, he'll probably bring Kira home for the weekend again, and they'd probably be just as happy to have the house to themselves."
"So, what's the problem?"
"Well, I told him we'd be back, and I only brought so much food, and he might worry about us."
As I heard the words in my ears, I realized they didn't make that much sense. With Jonah's wilderness skills, we didn't need to worry about food. Paul was a big boy - and he didn't seem to worry about me that much.
"I didn't leave Paul a note. He knows you're with me. And he knows me better than to expect me at any given time," Jonah reasoned.
I was thoughtful. "Well, I guess you're right. There's no reason we can't stay longer.
"I love it here. It's like our own little paradise!"
* * * *
The next day was cloudy and cool, and it rained off and on. We put up the tent on a little rise, and put the sleeping bags and other stuff in it to keep dry. Then we hiked down to the hot pools again.
It was a strange paradox, sitting in the scalding water with cold raindrops falling on us. My hair dripped rivulets down my breasts, and I watched the little drops snaking their way down the ringlets to the bottom, then dropping off onto my skin, collecting and continuing down to my nipple, where they fell into the hot water. Sometimes I could see rainbow colors in the prisms that the drops made as they traveled.
We sat facing each-other, our legs criss-crossed together. I never felt aroused when we were in the water. It was too hot sometimes to even move. But I felt very peaceful and close to Jonah as he stared at me, at the water, at the surroundings by turns. Being in the water felt a lot like it did right after we made love, just really good and warm and lazy.
When we felt satiated with the heat, and our blood was good and boiled, we stood up, moving in slow motion to get out and sit on the sand nearby. We hadn't worn clothes since that first dinner he cooked, except in the early mornings to eat our breakfast, when it was cold. Even today, with the rain, we had taken them off to come down here.
My body seemed to be adjusting, staying warmer on its own, without clothes. Then, of course, the hot springs warmed it up, and I was good for a long time after that. I marveled that no one else had disturbed our retreat. I was surprised, but glad, that we still had the place to ourselves.
* * * *
Later in the day, Jonah wanted to show me where he had found the wild fruits. So we swam across the swimming hole, climbed onto the flat rock, and hiked up the hill. I was still tender footed, so I brought my boots. Jonah laughed at me, and I suppose I was quite a sight with nothing on but boots.
The rain had quit, and the sun was peeking out a little. The hike produced a good sweat, and by the time we returned to the flat rock, a dip in the swimming hole was just the thing.
I took off my boots, and went in much faster this time, still a little stunned by the cold water, but getting better at it. Once we were cooled off and tired of swimming, we got back onto the rock.
The sun was out in full force now, and it was a yummy medley to bounce back and forth between cold air, hot water, hot sun, cold water. We had had it all today.
We were splayed across the rock, the sun drying our skin slowly, and Jonah was turned on again. He took my hand, kissing it, nibbling the skin on the outside, turning it over, licking the palm, sucking my fingers one by one.
Ahhh. It was like there were strings attached to all my erogenous zones, and he was tugging on them one by one, just with his mouth on my hand.
The center of my palm was so sensitive, and my fingers tickled and tingled, and he was dragging his tongue over them, winding it around my fingers, practically drooling, sucking them further and further into the cavern of his mouth, squeezing them with his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
Then he went to the other hand and did the same thing. My legs were agape, and his tumescent member was rubbing against them while he sucked my hand. He wet it, and it glistened in the sun. Then he brought it to the aperture and buried it in the darkness.
With him on top of me, the rock beneath me was a little hard, but not as bad as I would have thought. I just had to move a little bit to avoid the part that jutted into my back.
His mouth was drawing on my hand, and his cock was drawing on my insides, and I could feel him pulling the orgasm out of me. So I let the stars fly into the vortex, spinning round and round until you couldn't tell one from the others any more, and they were all just this endless trail into infinity.
I moaned, and he moaned, and I groaned, and he groaned, and we sang this duet in counterpoint until we had let it all out, and taken it all in, and finished for now what was never finished for us.
As we lay together afterward, I considered telling him about the paper I had found in his pocket in the morning, but then I thought better of it. I didn't want to ruin anything between us, and I didn't know how he would feel about it. If he wanted to share it with me, he would do it in his own good time. Till then, it was better to let it lie.
* * * *
We had one more day of lounging bliss, and then we were ready to go home. I had thoroughly enjoyed the whole time out in nature, but I also felt ready to go back and do some other things now. I hoped Paul had watered my garden while I was gone. I hadn't intended to stay away from it for so long. I hoped it was okay.
So we hiked out on Sunday, and drove back, arriving in the late afternoon. Kira's car was parked in the driveway, so I knew my prediction had been correct.
My little house was welcoming, and my garden looked a little bedraggled, but most of it was still hanging in there.
Jonah and I lugged our backpacks inside and dropped them to the floor with some commotion. Paul and Kira were watching a movie or something, his hand between her thighs.
They looked at us and gave a lukewarm greeting. No, Paul hadn't missed me or worried about me. Well, that was good.
We flopped into chairs in the living-room, and even though it didn't look that appealing, I watched the movie with them, because I was just too tired to get up and do anything else.
Eventually, they asked about our trip, and we told them about the river and the hike and the hot water, etc.
I asked Kira if she liked to camp.
"Oh no, Jean," she answered. "Only five star hotels for me!"
Then she giggled, and whispered something in Paul's ear.
"Well, good luck in this town, then," I offered.
"Oh, I know," she exclaimed. "My parents made me come here because the tuition's so low, but, believe me, when I'm done I'll be back in Portland - or maybe Chicago!"
I smiled gratuitously. Whatever.
When the movie was over, I asked Jonah if he wanted to come to bed.
"No! No!" Paul vetoed. "It's early. I haven't seen you in a week. Stay here with us, Jonah. Let's hang out."
Jonah looked up at me a little helplessly.
"Oh, yeah . . . Well, stay, Jonah. I've had you to myself all week. 'Night, all."
I blew kisses and headed to my bedroom, happy to climb into the cool, clean sheets. Unpacking would wait till morning.