What Just Happened? Ep. 02byglenlover©
Series note: This is Episode 2 of the series, "What Just Happened?" It can be read as a standalone story as well. The plan is for this to be a four-episode series.
I'm a horrible person. I know that now. Each time it happens I think, I'm a horrible person, and despite that, I don't stop it from happening again. I don't put an end to it like I should. I welcome it, the same way an addict would welcome cocaine.
Jackie's a horrible person too. We both are, though I'm certain of the two of us I'm the first to realise that about us since I was the first to accomplish what we set out to do (I think). Or was it what we joked about doing? I can't tell. The memory of that day is jumbled up in my head. I know if I want to remember -- if I really want to remember -- I will. But I don't. Why? Well, because it's not what I want to write about now.
I want to write about the first time.
A lesson in history: Jackie and I have been best friends for as long as I can recall. We went to the same high school and college. Whenever we moved houses we ended up in the same street, next to each other. Though I'm black and she's white we have an awful lot in common. For one, our no-good cheating husbands abandoned us. No matter. Adversities like that only serve to bring us closer.
Jackie has a son, Jason -- Jay, for short. I have one too: Christopher. A lot in common, see? We're a close-knit family, even though we're not related by blood.
I'm going to skip the "why it happened" and go straight to the "how it happened".
On one of my work-free nights, while I was unwinding, Jay surprised me with a visit. He had come looking for Chris, which was odd, because I told Jackie earlier that Chris was off to spend the night at his Uncle's and she should inform Jay for me. She hadn't delivered the message. Jackie works too hard and sometimes forgets to do simple things like deliver messages. I don't blame her. She's a single mom with bills and fees to pay.
Anyway, Jay asked for Chris and I told him Chris wasn't home. Chris was at his uncle's house in Jersey. I invited him in, as I didn't want him going back to an empty house. Jackie was working late that day and I felt sorry for the kid. Also, he was good company. I enjoyed talking to him.
Jay was grateful. He asked me if he was interrupting anything, pointing out my attire. I was clad in a knee length, form fitting black dress. Remember, I was unwinding before he came, listening to jazz music and dancing with myself. I explained this to him and he laughed and made a joke about it.
I got him a soda. He sat on the sofa and I danced around while we chatted. Trust me this wasn't an unusual behavior on my part -- dancing and talking. Jay's pretty much used to seeing me act free. I'm the cool aunt, not the conservative type. Plus I was restless that day and didn't feel like sitting or standing in one position.
Eventually our conversation swerved from the latest blockbusters to music. Jay, being a white kid and Jackie's kid (lol), wasn't exactly tuned to the rhythm of jazz. I chose to give him a few lessons. He was much obliged. Had I known this simple, playful act would lead us down a dark path I would never have considered it.
Jay and I danced, and even though he wasn't adept at moving his feet, he did know a thing or two about twirling his dance partner and moving his hips. I was the expert and I schooled him by practical demonstration. All he had to do was follow my lead. Jay was a good student. He caught on pretty well. So it didn't surprise me when he pulled me by my waist to himself the second I backed him at one point. I waved my body, tapped my feet, shook my hips, and Jay attempted to match my flow. For the most part he succeeded.
I should have been worried when I felt him harden against me. He had his firm hands on my hips and grated my rather big butt (ok, really big butt) with his crotch, and I whirled my hips continually, a gesture that encouraged him.
I'm ashamed to say I was ... turned on. I hadn't being with a man in long time and having Jay pressed against me, feeling the solid impression of his cock on my ass, drove me to a happy place. My nipples tautened. I decided to stop our dance.
I didn't let my shame show. As the adult it was important for me to keep him at ease. Make sure he wasn't mortified by my actions. I laughed and congratulated him on successfully graduating as an experienced dancer, all the while searching his face for any signs of trouble. I found none. He had enjoyed himself, it showed on his face.
I did detect something else in his eyes: desire. The way he looked at me, I could tell his hands itched to touch parts of me he wasn't meant to touch.
The realization of how Jay felt about me comforted and terrified me. Comforted me, because to be wanted by an eighteen-year-old boy at my age made me feel confident in myself, in my body.
Terrified me, because I was present at his birth eighteen years ago; I had changed his diapers more than once; and I'd watched him grow all his life. He was like a son to me. Not only that, he was my son's best friend.
I asked Jay if he wanted to stay for dinner. He said he would love to but needed to go home and sort some things out. I offered to walk him to the door. He patted his pockets and claimed he'd dropped his house keys somewhere in the living room while dancing. We got on our knees and searched.
Maybe it was a ploy. I don't know and I haven't asked him about it till this day.
I was bent over, my cheek pressed on the floor, my vision narrowed to better see under the sofa, and then my dress fluttered up. My first thought was: it's the wind. My second thought was: I haven't got panties on and Jay can see me half-naked. My third thought was: wait, there's no breeze in my living room.
Before I could react I felt something press between my butt cheeks. Jay's face. I was startled. I tried to jump to my feet, but his hands clutching my waist made it impossible. I yelled his name in anger. I yelled at him to stop.
He didn't. Instead he lapped my pussy.
Believe me when I say I was outraged, horrified ... shocked. I couldn't believe this was happening. I couldn't believe Jay would stoop to disrespecting me like this. I wanted to kick him, turn around, and slap him. Then call Jackie and report him. Or call the cops and howl "rape". I wanted to rain abuses on him.
My knees turned to jelly, my thighs tingled, and I curved my back, shoving my ass in his face, much to my utter astonishment and fear.
I swear it was instantaneous. I was right there on the ground, and then his face was between my legs, and I wasn't reacting the way I should. I wasn't trying to get away. I remained where I was and let him carry on. I don't know why. I've thought about it over and again. I've asked myself why. Why, why, why. All I can come up with are maybes. Maybe I allowed it to happen because I had been celibate for so long and needed that kind of attention. Maybe the massive dose of shock I got when his tongue flicked on my love spot paralyzed me. Maybe I had a secret crush on him and what he did was what I had wanted from him for so long.
Maybes. Excuses. The truth is I don't have a suitable answer to the question "why".
Amid the mess of emotions bludgeoning me, something blossomed in my chest: a warm, overwhelming feeling. It spread its tendrils and took control of my body.
I dug my nails into the carpet, squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my lips together. Jay's hands fell on my butt cheeks, patting, wandering. My ass moved, slow, like I was dancing to one of my favourite RnB songs.
My mind was a haze.
Our actions had repercussions, I knew, but I wasn't thinking about them. I was thinking: where did Jay learn to use his tongue? I would never have thought him experienced in something as crafty as giving head. Not Jay. Jay who I babysat all these years?
Thinking about it now makes me feel humiliated. Yet the truth is Jay ate my pussy better than anyone had ever done before. His tongue and teeth stoked the fire in my clit. I burned all over. I panted, moaned, waved my ass on his face, and gripped the back of his head so I could better urge him to keep eating me.
Then my clit exploded. My body shuddered. I wailed as I came really hard.
Once it was evident I had climaxed Jay withdrew his face and crawled closer to me. I looked at him. He seemed more than pleased, which wasn't what I expected, and he didn't avoid my gaze out of embarrassment. His eyes held deep lust. He didn't see me as his aunt or his best friend's mom or his mom's best friend; he saw me as an object for his satisfaction.
His bold demeanor arrested me. I mean, Jay has always been a confident boy. I've seen him partake in debates at school. But this wasn't a school debate. This was sex with his older, mature neighbor, and it could have gone very wrong. Where did he discover this new self-assurance?
He placed his hand on my head and I realized I had been too caught up in my thoughts. As such I hadn't seen him unbuckle his belt, lower his pants and retrieve his dick. His sturdy, curved dick. He sat on the sofa and nudged my head closer to his cock.
God, why didn't I end it then? Maybe my initial orgasm had robbed me off my inhibition. Here I go again with the maybes.
I started from the base of his cock, trailing my tongue all the way its head, and circling, then licking down the turgid flesh. I swallowed the mushroom head, bobbing my head, sucking. I heard Jay's satisfied groan. His hand on my head pushed and I sank the rest of him inside my mouth. I sucked, blew, spat, and slurped. I utilized my experience and extensive knowledge of sucking dick to the fullest. Jay moaned and moved his hips, fucking my mouth.
His hip movements grew erratic and I knew he was close. He cried my name. Actually he cried: Chris' mom. Then he spurted warm, thick cum into my mouth. He ejaculated so much cum some of it issued from my mouth down his cock and onto my sofa.
I swallowed, got up and went to the kitchen. I rinsed my mouth. I didn't want to go back to the living room for fear of facing Jay, but I told myself the deed was done. No use crying over spilled milk, I said.
Jay did the honorable thing in cleaning the sofa and getting rid of any evidence of our reprehensible act. He smiled when I walked back in and told me he was off home. I didn't know what to say. In circumstances like this you'd expect the teenager to be shy and uncomfortable. But this teenager appeared to be in complete control, like he had achieved a personal goal. It unnerved me, I tell you. I just smiled back and waved goodbye.
That night I thought about what we had done. A part of me, the sick part, had enjoyed it. The responsible part had not.
The following day my mind was in turmoil. Chris asked me why I looked so bothered. I told him it was nothing. My God, if he ever found out he would never forgive me.
I saw Jay when I dropped Chris off at school. He looked at me like nothing had happened. I played along. I thought it was a one-time thing. We had both been mired in the moment, nothing more.
That night Chris went over to Jay's. Some minutes afterwards Jay came to my house. I was puzzled. I had thought he was hanging out with Chris. He told me he had to see me. Said he couldn't stop thinking about what we did the other day. I explained to him that what we did was wrong and shouldn't repeat itself.
Did he listen? Yeah. Did my explanation have any effect? Not a chance. He put on that infamous self-assurance, stared me in the eye, and I knew it was going to happen again. He saw the confusion in my eyes, along with the fear and longing. He saw them all and used it to his advantage.
Then he fucked me on my sofa. Spread my legs, held my left ankle in the air, and rode my pussy until the only words coming out of my mouth were incoherent confessions.
The only reason I let him fuck me was his guarantee that Chris wouldn't catch us. Can you believe that?
It's been happening for a week now. Chris goes over to Jay's and Jay comes to my house and fucks me. We're going to get caught. I can feel it. How long before Chris decides to come home early one day and catches us in a compromising position? And what will Jackie say?
It has to end, and I'm the only one who can end it. But I don't know how to. Or maybe I don't want to end it.
There I go again with the maybes.