Someone Else's Spring Break

"...ho-lee-mo-lee......" Milton sighed out short of breath while whispering husky. Having just released what he held of atmosphere, he had little left for the never ending stream of fluid now erupting. Jeanette was continuously biting softly on the front of his shoulder as she held Milton, rubbing his length with the back of her knee -- three sides at once -- and feeling the pulses.

She was able to press her clit into the tip of his hip bone just above his tan line, in the front, from the new position. She was softly in orgasm herself thanks to the change in stimulation, breathing in his morning scent as hard as she could to refill her lungs at the same time.

Milton never noticed between the blindness of orgasm and the bare tits on his shoulder, and arm, that she came. He did notice that she continued to bite both his collar bone and chest.

"uh.. ...time to make the biscuits..." It had come from Milton, near a minute later. The poor fellow was embarrassed, unsure, and still twitching in his shorts. It's not that he was new at such things; it was only that he had thought he would be on the hard couch his mother loved so much, instead of this at fresh awake. His intentions were to try to sneak some time in the comfy bed, alone, before a night of agony.

He offered to bear the pain of the couch, just to avoid similar situations, and mostly to avoid Micah's bed. Yet Jeanette had willingly put Milton into these circumstances; he did not know what to do beside what he had for years: Make biscuits. There is a soothing comfort to repetition for some.

Best/Worst of all, he was behind schedule; his morning routine had been changed for the first time in years. Jeanette, meanwhile - still shirtless and with at least one full melon exposed to his view and the other on his bicep - had pulled her right arm loose and supported herself on her elbow. She was tracing his slightly hairy chest with a finger of her left hand, not the pointer finger, and still touching Milton's bobbing rod with the back of her knee -- half straddling him.

Jeanette watched his unease, it had stopped her from nibbling and into her new position. She was about to dash it from him, as if to show him what to do next, until he spoke, finally understanding why he did not try to fuck her immediately, as she had hoped he would. If Milton had not spoken, she would have thrown herself upon him, not awake enough to think he was anything but wary, or for understanding.

As insanely much as Jeanette wanted to inter the course though, her intuition was trying to do it's job and held her back regardless. It was glad for Milton's words, as it was about to lose it's position to the morning wood. It was only trying to tell her she was out of place.

"G'mornin' handsome ...and don't you mean 'doughnuts'?" When he did not smile, and instead looked at her confused, Jeanette laughed at his lack of popular culture. She actually slapped him in the chest, 'accidentally' gripping his shaft with her knee.

Milton moaned again, it almost sounded like: "Good morning."

"Go ahead, do whatcha gotta do, Milty," Jeanette hopped out of the bed, slapping him once again in the chest before she did, and feeling him devour her naked flesh, or the lack thereof where the fabric 'shorts' - that were far smaller than most underwear - hid her sex, after she was out.

"uh.. yup, have to.. um.. thanks though?" Milton was still moaning. He actually had thought the words, not said them out loud as he had intended. Out loud Milton was drunk, intoxicated, motionless by her beauty, glowing and in afterglow, and the tits that had been on his back, bare.

"Don't worry, I can see you're late, I'll make the bed for you. Maybe I can help this morning? When I'm finished here?" Jeanette knew the deal; she had talked with his mother; she knew his motivations for redundancy.

"Uh... well... um," he was speaking aloud now, her question having brought coffee-like awake.

"Please? I want to see what you do every day, you know... Before we go riding? It could be fun? Maybe you could use the company yourself, this time around?"

"Uh,um,yup,right, ok... Sure, see you in a bit." With that, Milton was out of the bed and to his dresser in an instant. She eyed his shocked, out of hard, but still over full, bulge the whole way along. Milton was running late, and he assumed her request was uninformed, genuine, even for as awkward as it was.

He stopped at the closed over door, and turned to her. "Um.. If you are going to come with me today, you are going to need denims. Not that you look anything but..um.. perfect," his eyes latched to her bare breasts for a moment, admiring their 'symmetry' for the most part, "but uh.. Think of it as a safety issue, uh.. You can still wear a.." Milton made some sort of drawing motion to represent her previous attire, "If you need, uh.. just grab a belt there is a bunch downstairs nexto the wash machine.. they should fit."

He then smiled, and was gone to the bathroom. Thinking of the visible split between her hips and legs, almost, almost showing the last little bit before her clit. Thinking of the equality of the width of her hand, and her apparent shorts. Apparently, the legs of the garment were twice the size of the rest of it's fabric

It was a genuine request, but Jeanette was no longer uninformed, the awkward was intentional.

***

Two of the raw biscuits were touching each other. His father used to make these, same recipe, for Milton and Micah, before the bus, every day before school. He used to get up at 4:00 AM to have breakfast ready by 5:00 AM when they had to leave. Their father had done this from the time they started schooling, until his death.

"...boobie biscuits..." Milton mumbled to himself, using his fathers joke, also the nickname for the two sons in the mornings.

"Good morning, boobie biscuit," or "biscuits," his father would say to one or the pair as they stumbled in for food every dawn crack. Milton and Micah 'got along' at breakfast in those days, their father easily stifling their arguments -- setting them straight. He always reasoned the boys down in the way only father's do.

"What?" Jeanette had been listening, her stealth continuing to be his falter. To Milton, it was an instant sign to be turned on, his brother was wrong to mistake it as "weird" or "stalker" or the like. The arrogance of his brother was never able to see the truth; even when it had been proven incorrect before.

"Oh, uh, holey.. Jam, Hello, um.. Just uh, something my father used to say," Milton pointed to the tray while his attention set on her painted jeans - painted on - without paint. To match and defeat was the tightest 'wife-beater' tank he had ever seen, in a grayish tone, showing her belly and obviously braless.

"There are some boots in the cupboard over there," Milton pointed by the door, holding his head, "Grab a pair of really tall ones, they should all be clean, just check for spiders..." he said as she went, and he loaded the tray into the warm oven, noting the time and smiling all along. Janette had the boots on, with surprising ease in her mind, in tune with Milton handing her a cup.

"Thanks. What's first?" Jeanette was ready, willing.

"Frick and Fricker first, since Ed's still asleep, and will be for a while, then we take the biscuits out of the oven, then we have breakfast, then we run through the garden, laundry, then we feed Ed, then we go for a trail ride." Milton was sipping his coffee at every "then" he spoke.

"That's it?" Jeanette was being cynical, dramatic, loving the style of this family. She was amazed at all the things to be accomplished before noon, and the Harris home was far short of an actual farm.

"Well..." Milton became extremely hushed, leaning over to Jeanette, from the counter, whom was sitting down, and then whispering, "...if my mom goes out today, we will clean Mike's room first, before we ride out."

Jeanette could not wait for that.

***

Diane finished her breakfast, and washed the plate and silverware in the sink, then placed the remaining biscuits on a new dish. The other dishes had been done.

"He's such a good boy..." Diane spoke aloud as she carried the plate into the living room to place on the woodstove. In the winter, it kept them warm, in the summer it was habit.

Diane stopped at the open curtains in the living room and looked out at the couple - just met - laughing and talking in the way older and long time lovers do. They were carrying baskets to place in the cellar, hers was half the size of his own, yet she was still staining

Her Milton was smiling, genuinely smiling, for the first time in years. Diane could almost believe Sarah was out there, and her son was his old self. Glad for her preparation, she grabbed the bag off of her favorite couch, and placed the note in the kitchen, where Milton probably would not see until after he cleaned Micah's room.

Diane placed her bags in the car, and went to wave goodbye to the couple.

***

The 'patch of garden' as Milton called it, turned out to be larger than a suburban front yard. Comparably the rows and plants were spaced in perfection and equality similar to the placement of modular buildings themselves. Jeanette was impressed at the living farmer's market; it could not be seen from the driveway, as it was hidden by the house.

They had just finished picking whatever was ripe, of various kinds, and placing them in the baskets they had. While they went, they picked off the overripe, rotten, or wilting parts, and dropped them in the lanes. Even with gloves on, Jeanette yelped in surprise quite often, always at spiders or bugs she had never seen before.

"No worry, Jam, the spiders will jump off, they keep the bugs away for the most part," Milton loved her reactions, all naturally the way he could want them, his smiles and laughs endless.

They had just come out of the 'root' cellar, though done in stone, organizing what they picked, and were walking back to clean up the scraps of vegetation for natural compost. Even in giant rubber boots, Milton could not help but love her body to go along with her being.

"What do you do with it all?" Jeanette could not help but notice he could start a produce section from his cool basement.

"Well, if something grows too much, like this year, I sell it to the farm stand. I actually do make some Jams or preserves of all kinds. Gives me something to do when it is way too cold, it keeps down there for a long time." Milton handed her a rake when they arrived back at the patch of garden.

"What do I do with this?" Jeanette was genuinely confused and Milton could not help but genuinely smile.

"Easy, just drag everything in the middle of the rows to the end of there, with the wheel-barrel," he pointed, "...Real light, like this," he showed her, "...Use a little finesse and it's no problem." Milton easy moved beyond her speed, but they only continued chatting away and smiling, both gawking at the working features of the other. Jeanette was having fun.

"This is what 'normal' people do," she said to herself at the same time Milton's mother, Diane, yelled from the side of the house.

"Bye, Honey! Love You!" Diane kissed and waved. "Nice to meet you, Jam! You kids be good!"

"Bye Mom, love you." Milton was waving, his steady deep voice easily carrying without the need to yell, it was the same as every day short of the addition of Jeanette.

"Yeah, bye, Diane!" Jeannette was waving, not assuming anything was up.

Neither Jeannette nor Milton noticed the note until they were heading out of the house, after cleaning Micah's room.

'Milton, I did not remember to tell you that the casino gave me a free spa week with my jackpot. I'll be gone until Monday, but I will call Micah and let him know. Have fun, and you should not have decided to clean his room. See you in a week! -Love, Mom'

The couple stared at each other after Milton had read the note out loud to both. Jeanette's nipples hardened to maximum, and stayed there as they made their way to the barn, her with an apple in her hand, to saddle up Frick and Fricker.

It was minutes before noon as they rode, in a walk, on the horses, to the trail. Ed was prancing alongside in his own field as they went. Both were wearing sneakers, though Milton was all cowboy, as he had a gun-in-holster at his back, on his belt.

"Think of it as a safety issue," was all he said as her eyebrow went up at the sight of Milton retrieving it from a locked cabinet before they left.

***

The horse trails were much wider, and the ride was much smoother, than Jeanette had anticipated after yesterday's method of travel. On occasion she would see the smaller trails of the previous day intersect the larger one that they now traveled on, side-by-side on the horses.

Jeanette would have been fearful of the gun and the potential dangers of the forest, had it not been for Milton's speech, given shortly as they entered the woods.

"These guys," the horses, "are sharp enough to know what is or is not coming well ahead of time. Just relax and enjoy. We only have to ride to the edge," he pointed ahead and into the forest, "...and check the clearing on Micah's side," which is on the opposite corner of the other lake, "...It connects to a piece of property with a trail that connects to a development. Sometimes the kids make messes a mile from their home."

"Ok, I trust you." Jeanette was in love, and the best parts were left to explore.

Now they rode quietly, side by side down the trail and almost at their destination. They had been in a comfortable silence as Jeanette absorbed what she could of the view, and Milton absorbed past the view, scanning the forest constantly on both sides, or her body, but with finesse towards either. Her sunglasses were on her nose, his on the top of his head, the trees made better shades.

"So, your mom told me about Sarah..." Jeanette knew it was now or never.

She watched him sag into his white t-shirt while upon the saddle upon Fricker's back. He let out a slow sigh as his back curved out - folding into himself - to Fricker's one turned back ear. They still continued on at the walking pace. Frick's ears were forward, as Milton's body was just past the horses head.

"Oh yeah...? What else did she tell you about...?" That was a name Milton refused to speak aloud.

"She told me everything... and what else happened... and what happened after that... Oh, and she says you sleep like the dead, and no one tells you because they think it's funny..."

"Woah," Milton had stopped the horse, not Jeaneatte's speaking. Without a hand from Jeanette, Frick stopped even with Fricker. Milton was staring at the horn of the saddle, just staring at it. The opening to Micah's clearing was a short distance ahead. It appeared as the light at the end of the tree tunnel before them.

"...is that why you wanted to help?" Sarah had helped Milton since his father died; she practically lived with the family anyway. Milton had a look on his face as if Jeanette had slapped him for nothing.

The trio had been best friends up until the brothers's father's death: Micah, Milton, and tom-boy Sarah - the same age as Milton.

When Sarah chose chubby but kind, quiet, not-so-tough Milton, Micah never forgave either. Sarah had stood up for Milton their whole lives, up until she died at twenty from a drunk driver; the driver was Micah's girlfriend, Sarah's best friend; A best friend whom lived through the accident, but broke up with the other brother shortly after.

"No, no. I wanted to, it was fun. I can't believe you even exist. You are like... Perfect."

Milton had had the same routine since Sarah died in the hospital, two weeks after the accident, in a coma. He had visited her every day, as long as they would let him. They would have been married.

Milton turned to stare at Jeanette, still hunched in his saddle, as if she were full of shit.

"I mean... You are just so kind and humble... I just wanted to make you happy." Jeanette touched his forearm on his knee as the other was clutching the reins on the horn, similar to his method. His mother, Diane, had warned Jeanette of his honesty and empathy.

"It is to a fault," Dianne had told her, "He is so straightforward and honest about everything, that he cannot believe you are lying to him. He might think you are, but he trusts without conscience. It gets him into trouble. His father had attitude, like Micah is full of, but he was gone before he could teach them to be men..." Diane and Jeanette were speaking while the two sat on the porch sharing glasses of near-too-expensive wine, facing the woods at the 'road' side of the house.

"I don't understand, like what?" Jeanette could not grasp how serious Diane was, because of the dramatic presentation.

"Like the reason he is single and lonely and only has a horse for a friend, other than his acquaintances. One of Sarah's friends turned out to be a gold digger... It wasn't even six months after her death and this girl had.. how do they say it? 'Played' Milton into thinking she loved him. I bet that bitch didn't even miss that sweet girl... It broke his heart when he caught Sarah's friend cheating, after she swore she was not.. That was a fight.. and it was with Micah that she cheated... Micah had known the whole time, and exploited it while cheating on his own girlfriend.. That was.. a year ago..? ...Milton never said a word."

"Oh my gawd..." Jeanette could not believe Milton was so cool with his brother. She began thinking he had a small penis; her voyeur had to check later...

"He just gave up on love after that, two in a row... His father, then his aunt, then his girlfriend... my poor Milly..."

Jeanette had tears in her eyes, but she was not hysterical in the least. "What do you think I should do?" Jeanette was asking Diane.

"Show him, tell him, he won't really know unless you do." Diane said, following a tearful sip of wine.

Now, Milton continued to stare at her, still looking at her like she were full of shit, but he tapped the horse lightly with a heel and clicked his tongue. They headed into the clearing. The sun was out, it was hot. There was one tree by an opening in the creek, making a large pond, half in the shade. This one was not as clean or clear as the other, but beautiful in it's own. Milton let go of the horses after he assisted Jeanette down.

"They'll stay, and warn us of cougars or the like," he said as he pulled what appeared to be the same green folding shovel out of a saddle bag and walked over to a small pile of trash near the water's edge. He dug a hole and buried the trash, but lit it on fire before covering it up.

Jeanette simply watched him from atop the baby blue - large patterned plaid - blanket under the tree, the saddle bags from Frick to her side, full of lunch. That is, simply until she spoke.

"So, I get it you know. You really are a nice guy. But.. um.. Can you fuck me now?"

Milton turned to look at Jeanette, he was contemplating her words.

"Take your shirt off..." Jeanette was touching her lip, her locks down and across half of her face.

"You first..." He was being cheeky as he took off his shirt, and she stood up, her exhibitionist in charge. Jeanette leaned into the tree and began to play with the bottom of her 'wife-beater'. She still played with her lip and chin and mouth with the other hand as she watched him fill in the hole.

Milton dropped the shovel, it landed sticking into the ground as he unhooked the holster and set it against the tree; the hold-in strap was unsnapped; Milton knew the safety was on.

"Are you going to just fuck..." Milton spat the word as he washed his hands with a water bottle, "...me for a week and then leave?" He was taking off his shoes and socks soon after as she took of her socks and tiny man-tank. "Or are you going to maybe love me this week, and maybe more later?" He was naked except for his shorts and boxers; he was holding the waist of each at once, keeping them on.