The Residency Issue Ch. 02

That could only be one person. I picked it up. "Hello?"

"Vera!" Alma's voice came through. "Good morning. How are you?"

"Well," I said, "I'm doing fine." I looked at the clock. 9:07.

"And how's Paul?" she asked.

"Oh, I think he's fine too," I said. "You want to talk to him?"

"Um, sure. Is he handy?"

"You bet. Just a second," I said.

I listened to Paul's side of the conversation. "Doing just fine, thanks," he said. "Trying to get used to another bed, another house." He looked at me.... "No, I wouldn't worry, I think it's going to work out fine. I appreciate all the concern.... Yes, thank you. Talk to you soon. Bye."

He handed me back the phone. "She says to put you back on."

"Hello, Alma. You've got me again."

"Vera," she said, "I want to thank you again, and let you know about this week."

"Okay," I said.

"The church committee will get here at noontime today," she said. "They will stay four nights, that's through Thursday night." There was a quick pause. "Oh my, I can't tell you how fine it is to be able to concentrate on the committee and their needs, thank you again."

"Alma," I said, "you take care of your committee, and don't give us another thought over here."

"Well," she said, "thank you again.... The committee will all go home--their separate ways, you know--on Friday. Unfortunately, I will need to head back to Charlotte over the weekend for other business. It's indefinite when I'll be able to get back up here."

"Well, Alma," I said, "You just take care of things on your end. Paul and I will make do."

"He's behaving himself well, I take it?" she asked.

"Well," I said, "As you said, he's got excellent manners, and he's a very considerate boy. Don't fret about things on our account." I looked over at him as I said this.

She went on a little bit more about how grateful she was, at which point I rolled my eyes at Paul, who smiled.

"You're welcome," I said. "All right... all right." I just wanted Alma to clam up so I could get off the call! I had a beautiful boy lying right here in my bed, smiling at me, awaiting further orders!

Finally off the phone, I fell down next to Paul in the bed, and threw my arm across him. I said, "You did so well!" I kissed him. I said, "I don't know why I want to keep what we're doing quiet, but I do for now. I guess I think Alma will want to take you away sooner. Or something."

Oh, glory to and bless his big ol' heart, he shifted above me on his arm and said, "We can't have that now, can we?" And he lowered his face to mine and kissed me, driving his tongue in my mouth like he was making love to me with it--again.

"Oh, Paul," I said as I felt his wonderful skin between my thighs, "make sweet love to me, baby, mmm, fuck me like you mean it!" His cock, hard already, slid deliciously up and down my slippery cunt; the sensation as it pressed against my clit was SO delightful, I think I moaned or whined with each stroke. Paul was doing a slow, sensual groove against me and I was getting rapidly towards the edge. Breathing hard already, I reached for his cock and he slowed down as I grabbed it. I held it in place and without missing a beat he slid that lovely penis full length inside me. Oh, dearest reader, the instant of entry, when a girl is good and ready, has its own special quality, its own charm, but when I'm as close as I was to coming, it's likely to put me over the top. It had happened only the night before, when I first impaled myself on him. This time I was so excited, so eager, so close as he slid his cock inside me, I suddenly clamped him fiercely to me--my vagina grabbed him and was instantly done for. I came and came and wheezed and grunted and whined... I pushed against his rigid cock for all I was worth. Glorious, transporting convulsions wracked me and I shook for delirious pleasure, squeezing my eyes and squeezing him in my legs and yelling I don't know what. I pushed against that beautiful boy's strong cock probably a dozen times, coming and coming. He's a champion, a true trooper with rare instincts and rock-steady staying power. I shook and wheezed, trying to get my breath back, still clinging to him. He held almost still inside me now, just pressing a little, grinding himself into me, sooo slowly, which caused delicious, shuddering echoes of my orgasm. Perhaps I was still coming.

We lay in that ineffable clinch for long moments. Opening my eyes, I turned to see his handsome face--it was glorious--he was breathing from his effort, and his pupils were wide with his lust. I know I harp on his physical beauty, but when you're as intimate as you can be with such a knockout, it seems like a miracle. I don't think I've ever seen him more lovely than that moment as he peered into my eyes.

We kissed; in fact we started making out, and when a stout cock is inside you, and you've just had your breath taken away in passion, it's an utter revelation. We alternated hard, passionate, lingering kisses with light, brief kisses, in which we felt the softness and pliant texture of our each other's lips. But our main kisses, the reason for doing this, were long, deep, tongue-involved (obviously), and passionate. I thought we kissed as sensually as any couple ever kissed. Conscious of nothing else in the world, we held fast to each other. Meanwhile, Paul started a subtle motion with his hips, which my ever-ready body seconded.

Soon the passion forced us to give up the kissing; now we held tight to each other and fucked hard. Paul rocked into me, steadily, rhythmically, and I rose to meet him and ground my pubic bone against his each time. I was getting my clit stimulated again and again and I just concentrated on that. That, and the feeling of Paul above me, thrusting and thrusting, of this beautiful, driven pagan madman, and I was his world. I was the only other person in his universe. I longed for it, devoured it. The consciousness of the brute force of his sex and the beautiful boy devotedly giving it to me--OH! Right over the top I went again, coming hard around his pounding cock, a sumptuous, dazzling explosion that shook me and blinded me. I was dimly aware, with Paul rocking inside me, that his own thrusting turned desperate and fast, and suddenly he dropped his head to my shoulder, stiffened, and gave a short whine. Then he breathlessly uttered, "OH--OH--OH--OH!" as his cock jumped several times deep inside me. I held his ass hard in my hands. Gasping for air, I reveled in, delighted in, Paul's climax, which I was sure he would not soon forget.

Two people, clinched tightly, gasping for air, conscious of nothing except their wedded flesh and the joy given and received. We breathed for several minutes, clinched together that way. Even at that moment, Paul held himself on his elbows; I didn't feel any heaviness from him, even though my gut could easily get in the way, and often had with partners in the past.

Finally he looked down at me and I touched his sides and he gently slipped out. I rolled over and looked at the clock now. Almost 10:00.

I dragged myself up off the bed, wobbled for a second as I stood. "Oh, sweetheart!" I said.

He replied from the bed with, "Mm."

"I'm claiming first shower," I told him. "You want to shave while I'm doing that, and then you can shower after?"

"Sounds like a plan," he said.

"There's a little water closet downstairs," I said, "where you can do that without steam on the mirror." He was up and heading for his backpack in the other bedroom. "After that, lover, we should go and find something to eat."

"Amen to that."

We arrived in town, with all its touristy kitsch and crowding. I had the conscious attitude that I was showing Paul off. We made for a diner that I know, and through breakfast I watched Paul eat. And eat. French toast--he asked specifically for two portions, and the young waitress promised it readily--two eggs, a croissant, two large sausage patties, coffee, and both bowls of fruit. I included watching him eat as part of watching everything he did. Being out with him was its own reward, but watching him eat--he had excellent manners, by the way--was somehow especially gratifying. I can't explain it. I began to move away from the vague feeling of wanting to keep us a secret; I was just going to enjoy his escorting me to whatever and wherever. We walked hand in hand toward some shops that I knew. Mainly I quelled the most ardent displays of affection I had the urge to show him--that was a tough fight. I couldn't help grinning constantly. Then he'd look at me and grin back. Oh, I was in my glory!

We went into an arcade of shops with all kinds of merchandise--leather goods, kitschy touristy clothes, and some nicer clothes, trinkets, knives, magic sets, fancy game sets, anything and everything. I surreptitiously cupped his sweet ass with my hand a couple of times--Oh god, its shape, softness, the way it gave under my touch. He was very subtle about it: he lifted his chin a bit the first time, but after that feigned that he hadn't felt anything. On the one hand, his not letting on gave me license to keep feeling him up, but I found I was determined to up the ante. I was having so much fun with my adorable boy!

In one small jewelry shop we stood together looking at a case of pretty rings and necklaces. The glass case wasn't a big one, but it was nestled in a fairly secluded corner toward the rear of the shop, and we were standing behind it, just the two of us. I ran my fingertips lightly and slowly on the back of his thigh near the lower curve of his ass. He gasped a little but again, didn't let on. Down my fingers went, slowly and sensually, then back up; I pushed aside the bikini briefs under his shorts and ran my fingertips very lightly over the fine hairs of his bottom, where his cheeks met. His breathing quickened again, but we kept our eyes focused on the jewelry, like misbehaving high schoolers.

Then I boldly moved my thumb up along his ass cheek, skin-to-skin. He swallowed and opened his lips to breathe, still pretending to inspect the jewelry. God I loved the way his skin felt in my hand; I loved the way he submitted to my setting the tone, following my whims when and how I pleased. I reached my hand up under the shorts and palmed his ass, languidly kneading it, making no move to take it away. He shifted on his feet, and I could tell he was getting hard. Keeping my shoulder and upper arm quite still, I reached around to the front of his shorts and slowly slid his small fanny pack around to the side, by his hip. Tightly I held his cock for a second. Then I began to massage it, running my fingers along the underside of it, and using my thumb along the upper side and the tip. His erection grew markedly. Clearly I was pushing the envelope; we hadn't been in such a hidden-away spot before, and I couldn't help taking liberties. His arousal was quite exciting--my heart pounded and I felt the warmth and moisture in my pussy. Damn, I felt naughty, all frisky and reckless.

Leaving him there with his relative privacy, I went to another case to look. I stopped in front of one with knives, not that they interested me. But--another whim--I gave in to naughtiness. I went back to Paul and pulled him by the elbow, hard-on and all, out from behind the case.

"Paul, honey," I said, "I want to show you something. Come on." His eyes got big with panic. "Come on, you've looked at that stuff long enough. I found some cool knives up here."

Even without overtly glancing down at the arousal I'd caused, I knew his shorts were still plainly--and prominently--bulging. Nearby a lean and stylish, but quite plain, older woman got what I'm sure was a clear view of Paul's predicament. She'd probably kept him in her line of sight wherever he went in the store. When I mischievously exposed him to view, she got an eyeful. For an instant Paul covered his arousal with a hand, but perhaps figured that it would just draw more attention to it. So he presented himself freely to view. While Paul's erection was quite evident, she came right up next to him as we hovered above the knife case. Poor boy.

She wore an open-neck t-shirt and pedal pusher jeans, although it exposed the aged skin of her upper chest; her neck and hands betrayed her age as well. Her upper teeth and jaw were too prominent to call her pretty--even her nose was knobby and unattractive--but her steel-gray hair was cut short in a current style, swooped to one side--all straight edges and a bare neck. When I pointed out a particular piece to her, she delighted at my invitation to join us, and edged even closer to Paul.

She asked him, "Do you like that piece, young man?"

"Oh, this is Paul," I said to her. "And you are?" Why I introduced them so readily, I'm not sure, but of such questionable decisions is life made.

"Oh, I'm Nora," she said, and shook Paul's hand.

He murmured, "How do you do?" She got very much in Paul's space and started to talk to him, making him focus on her. Very soon she took hold of Paul's bicep and held his arm close against her. I backed away a step to watch and enjoy Paul's dealing with women he was unacquainted with; it's hard to say what I was thinking at that moment, but I enjoyed the hell out of the fact that Paul was mine, and that others would find him captivating too. As I watched Paul's behavior, it shouldn't have surprised me that he was gracious, smiling, and attentive. No sooner had I stepped back, though, when another woman, this one middle-aged and plump, put herself next to Paul on his other side. She didn't say anything at first; when Paul glanced at her she must have smiled because his face softened, his eyes smiling into hers. He was so alluring, and the blowzy-haired plump thing just kept looking up at him. She didn't touch him that I could see, but she wasn't about to leave his side.

Soon two or three more women drifted subtly into Paul's orbit, and, being part of a crowd, felt free to be near him and to talk to him. Nora apparently felt some privilege, having actually seen the threadbare gym shorts stretched by his erection, she took it upon herself to direct the small group's location and conversation. I watched Paul become the focus of this growing phalanx, and my instinct suddenly told me that all the attention would be a good thing for him. In the months and years to come he would obviously be faced with interested women of all ages, and probably not a few men, and the sooner he got used to it and learned how to handle himself, the better off he'd be.

Just then my cell phone rang. It was my sister Grace, calling from Cincinnati. I answered it, as I knew I'd better, and asked her to hold on for a second. I told Paul, "I need to take this, hon. Why don't you meet me at Fraley's--the ice cream place just down the block there--in fifteen minutes? They've got some tables out back in the shade, okay?" I wanted to get out of the little shop so I didn't fill it with my conversation, and since I wouldn't have been able to keep Paul company at the same time, out I went.

There's no point in talking about Grace's conversation, there never is. I kept up my end reasonably well, though, and made my slow way amid the throng.

I was waiting at a table at Fraley's at the appointed hour--I arrived early in fact--and waited... in vain I waited. The fifteen minutes had come and gone. They'd turned into 25, and were closing in on half an hour. Where could that boy be?

I resisted the temptation to go back out to the sidewalk and look, particularly since it meant probably losing the table, but I was getting restless and my restless was beginning to seep over into peeved, when in they waltzed, Paul and Nora. They looked as thick as thieves, since Nora was still clinging to him like a vine. Paul looked a little stiff in her clutches, it pleased me to notice. I didn't know if that was because he saw me, or if he really didn't like her.

I stood and when I caught Paul's eye I held my hand up. Nora walked him over out of duty, and when they arrived she spoke before I could.

"Delivering one young man to your safe keeping," she said to me rather formally. Letting go of Paul's arm, she took his hand. "It was wonderful to meet you, Paul. Think about what I said. I hope to hear from you soon." She squeezed Paul's shoulder once more for good measure, glanced back at me with a little nod, and walked away.

"Now what was that all about?" I asked Paul as we sat down.

"Well," Paul said, "we got to talking about the theater program at the University. It turns out--so she says--that her husband is Professor Beckmann, who is involved in the Theater Department--associate professor I guess."

"Have you ever heard of him?" I asked.

"No," he said. "I know the chairman is Dr. Schaffer, but that's the only name I know. Anyway, she also said that her brother-in-law has a business and has helped in some of the basic construction jobs that they needed for some of the shows."

"Really."

"Yeah," Paul said, "I wasn't sure if I should believe her--she just kept going on so fast while we talked. But," he said as he unzipped his fanny pack, "she gave me this card and said I should look them up."

It was a card for a company called Toomey Construction, in Knoxville, Elton Toomey, Owner and President. I checked back side and there was a number written on it.

"Nora's cell number, no doubt," I thought aloud.

"Yeah," Paul said.

"Of course it is," I said. "I'm sure she would love to hear from you." Paul was looking at me.

"Well," I said, "at least she gave you some information you can verify. And who knows--maybe the theater connection at the college is a real thing. Do you want to check it out?"

Paul looked at me and nodded. "Yeah, I would, actually."

On the way back home, I grilled Paul about his new acquaintance. "Did Nora seem genuine to you? I mean, I'm sure she'd like to get close to you..." Glancing over at his stunning face, I knew I wasn't just projecting. I mean, who wouldn't want to get "close" to Paul? If they were into men, anyway.

"I know what you're saying, Vera," Paul said. "She didn't act too pushy, I guess, except she had her hand on my arm pretty much the whole time."

"Uh huh," I said. "No doubt."

"But she knew a lot about the theater department at the University," Paul said. "I don't know. I guess we could check up on her. Her story."

"Well, I think it's a really good lesson you're going through," I said. "I really think you're getting a little taste of your future. See how you draw the women in? You're going to meet and deal with a lot of people in your life, Paul. You'll have to be especially careful around the women. You're SO charismatic and beautiful, my sweet thing. I don't think a little boost for your ego would was a bad thing, either."

"Well..." he said, "that was like being thrown into the deep end, kind of. Nora never did let go of me. And three separate times in the jewelry shop somebody, or maybe a couple of somebodies, ran a hand real quick across my rear end. After the first time, I figured it couldn't be a mistake."

"I know," I said, "I'm sorry. You seem like you held up under the abuse." He looked at me, not appreciating my attempted humor.

"But," I said, "think of it this way, darling. Yes, it was kind of an advanced lesson in a crash course, but at least it was a controlled environment. You won't always have people to pull you out of situations. There was no threat today, or at least not much of one--I didn't think Nora was going to bundle you up and throw you into the trunk of her car--but that won't always be the case, even for a man. When people get in your space and vie for your attention, it's really hard to tell who is genuine and who is not. Who is motivated to improve your welfare, and who doesn't give a shit."

As we drove along, Paul watched the scenery pass, frowning a little.