Keira, Glenn, and the Nannycams
A Friction Fiction story
This is the third in a series of chapters or episodes that tell the love story of a woman of thirty, her ten-year-old son, and a boy of fifteen, and their adventures together. It deals with adult-youth sex, same-gender sex, and incest. Don’t bother if you’re not into that kind of thing. It also takes a little time to get started; this chapter is about the building yearnings between Keira and Glenn, and Denny’s memories of his first time having sex — at the age of eight. In the next chapter, Glenn and Keira actually get down to doing it. Hang in there while the heat rises. That, or wait for the next chapter, of course.
©2010 Friction Fiction. All characters and situations are made up. Similarity to actual persons or events is coincidental, but fortunate for those who participated.
3 - A Boy and His Meat
She woke for the day a little after noon. The house smelled wonderful — more fried catfish, and what she swore had to be cornbread — and she followed the summons of her rumbling stomach to the kitchen, completely forgetting at first what she’d witnessed Glenn doing last night.
He was there, of course, dressed once more in his tight wifebeater and tighter cutoffs. Denny was setting the table and Glenn was just pulling a cast iron skillet out of the oven, sure enough filled with fresh cornbread. She halted when she realized what she’d seen. Denny was setting the table. What kind of wizard was this teen youth, to so easily civilize her boy and capture her dreams? “Morning, Keira,” he smiled, his braces bright.
“Afternoon, more like it,” she said. Her eyes flicked involuntarily to the hefty bulge at his groin. She knew what he was carrying now; she’d seen it last night, and knew it to be man-sized. He had exactly the kind of penis she liked best: young, and big. Oh God how am I ever gonna get through this?
The fact was that he was gorgeous both inside and out, her son loved him, and it filled her with a deep warmth to waken to a prepared meal, offered to her by a lovely young man who was sexy, sexual, and far better in heart and mind than anyone she’d ever bedded; and who had spent the night under her roof. In one way, at least, they had slept together. “I didn’t think you’d still be here when I got up.”
“I didn’t want to leave Denny all alone while you slept. I just … didn’t feel right about it.” He searched her face. “I hope it’s all right.”
“Of course it is, Glenn. It was thoughtful. And so is your making br…lunch like this.”
“He showed me all about cornbread,” Denny said, his eyes glowing. “I maked it myself.”
“Made,” Glenn said. “He mixed it up, stirred it, added the corn and stuff — but I put it in the oven for him. The skillet’s kinda heavy and I didn’t want him to get burned or anything.”
“But I mostly made it,” Denny said, preening a little when Glenn nodded at him and tousled his hair.
With nothing to do in the kitchen, Keira sat at the table to be served by the boys and feel like a queen. Denny dished up a good sized piece of catfish while Glenn cut and served the cornbread. The top was golden; the skillet had browned the crust; and it was moist on the inside. The flavor was delicate, light, and basically a warm little slice of heaven. Her glass of suntea was kept filled and her plate was always garnished by just a little bit more. Denny was radiant while he played waiter for her, and Glenn was kept busy both by directing him and by making sure whatever she had was hot and fresh.
It was like dining out; it was better than that. Her last date, a year ago, had been to the Wienerschnitzel’s in Cliveston: an embarrassing evening of terrible fast food, a fumbled attempt at a feel-up, and her gasping refusal to do anything at all, terminated with a slap when her partner had resisted the idea that her no was sincere. Not with him, and certainly not in the back of his Explorer. She was eating better now, flat broke, than she did when she had grocery money, and she was far better waited on to boot. “Do you like it, Mommy?”
She smiled at her son. “I love it, sweetheart. You make really good cornbread.”
He puffed out his chest a little, then took them all another step toward the inevitable by looking Glenn’s way and saying, “You got a girlfriend?”
“Not right now, why?”
Denny shrugged. “Mommy doesn’t have a boyfriend.”
Keira and Glenn stared at each other for an uncomfortable moment. She wasn’t sure which of them was blushing more. “Well … well, Glenn’s a little young for me, son.”
“Well … he’s fifteen, honey, and I’m thirty. That’s a big difference in age.”
“Oh.” He thought about that. “But not if he was like forty, right? You’d be fifty-five.”
“Uh,” Keira said. Christ, her son could be smart sometimes. Almost too smart. “Uh, well, yes … but right now it would be illegal.”
Denny stared at her. “You mean it’s against the law for you to have a boyfriend?”
“Not — no,” Keira said. “But right now, it would be illegal for Glenn to be my … I mean he and I can’t—”
“I’m too young,” Glenn helped. “I’m still in school and everything, just a big kid, like you.”
“That’s a dumb law,” Denny judged. She almost nodded agreement.
“It may be dumb, but that’s the way it is, Den,” Glenn said quietly. “Sorry.”
“If it wasn’t against the law, would you be Mommy’s boyfriend?” Glenn nearly choked on his water.
Keira’s flush ran down to her toes. “Dennis Bradford Waite, that is enough. Choose a different topic of conversation.”
“But why? It’s not fair…”
“Denny,” she said warningly. “I mean it.”
“How’s the car running?” Glenn asked. He was still coughing a little.
“Like a dream,” she said. “Started right up, and I swear it’s running smoother now too.”
“Probably is,” Glenn said, “more cornbread?” and they eased into small talk, keeping well clear of a topic that was deeply compelling to them both.
Keira saw Glenn off again. “Sorry about earlier. I hope it wasn’t too embarrassing for you.”
“Nah,” the boy shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “I lived.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear it. You handled it well. I’ll be sure to have a talk with Denny about acceptable topics in the future.”
“He’s just a kid. He don’t know any better.”
“I know that. You don’t need to defend him.” He bit his lip, and she softened. “Sorry. That was a little harsh. I just … sometimes in the past I’ve had to deal with men who wanted to raise up my boy in their image. I guess it’s not fair of me to … think you’re like them.”
Glenn lifted and dropped a shoulder. “Hope I haven’t, you know, gone too far.”
“You haven’t. I like it, to tell you the truth. I mean, I’m glad you’re a part of ou — his life. All he wants to do now is catch fish.”
“Well, he’s pretty good at it.”
“I’ve noticed. He’s crazy about you, you know. He … he really loves you.”
“Yeah,” Glenn smiled. “I know. Me too.”
“It shows. He … he said you shoot? I mean, you have guns, and…”
“Oh. Yeah. Well, he asked how I got the elk, and I … well, I told him how me and Dad started shooting when I was about his age, and…”
“I know. He told me he wants to go shooting with you sometime.”
“I … oh. I didn’t—”
Keira shook her head. “I know. It was his idea. I think he doesn’t understand yet that shooting an animal means killing it … I think he’s mostly just got this idea in his head that you’ll take him somewhere and shoot at cans or something.”
“Well yeah, sure, I mean that’s how Dad taught me at first…”
Keira swallowed. “I suppose it means a lot to a boy, doesn’t it? To go out with a gun and shoot at things with his father? Or … someone?”
Glenn, whose best times ever with his father had always been the conversations they shared while plinking at targets or taking rabbit, pheasant, deer, or elk, let his shrug speak for him.
“Do you have a gun he can handle?”
“Well … yeah, I still got my .22, it’s a good rifle and it don’t kick much, and…”
“Would you mind … sometime, maybe bringing it by, and show him how to use it? How to be safe, you know, how to be careful, how to load it and clean it or whatever you have to do, but also … how to…” She saw his wide-eyed stare and misinterpreted it completely. “You don’t have to, if…”
“Sure,” he said. “Yeah, sure, Keira, I’d like that.” He blushed for no good reason that she could see. “I mean if it’s okay and all.”
“Of course it is. It’s something a lot of boys around here know how to do, I guess, and … well, if he’s gonna learn how, I think I’d feel best about it if he learned from you.” She licked her lips, and Glenn felt his heart stumble. “I mean, I know he’d be safe with you.”
“Gosh. Thanks, Keira.”
She smiled. “Just make sure he doesn’t shoot his own leg off.”
“No way. A .22 can’t — oh, yeah.” He chuckled. “Right.”
“Good. Whenever you’re ready, then. Uh, Glenn, I found out I’m pulling another late shift Tuesday, and…” She’d just told a little lie. Her Tuesday nights weren’t news to her.
“I’ll be here,” he said promptly. He blushed again. “I mean, if you want me. To be.”
“Yes. Thank you.” She surprised herself by putting her arms around him and drawing him into a hug. It felt so good to feel his body so near, and when she thought again of what she’d seen him do last night she decided it didn’t matter. His bare penis had been in his hand, his semen on his chest — but he’d taken steps to be sure he wouldn’t be caught in the act (except by her, with her sneaky, spying ways); and if it meant he’d be here again to look after her son, she figured she wasn’t going to begrudge him a little self-indulgence now and then.
Glenn held her close for a while, thinking about Denny’s questions. Would I be her boyfriend? Oh hell yeah. Her body was warm and alive in his arms, her full breasts pressed against his chest and her hips snugged up to his own. He’d never held anyone this close, not even Steph, and it felt wonderful. He wanted to kiss her, wanted to go back inside with her for a while and smooch on the couch, maybe make out a little, or just hold her hand, or even just sit beside her and drink in the scent of her skin. His baffling and surprising feelings for Keira were growing stronger by the hour, and it made him miserable to know that she was unattainable to him. She was a woman, way beyond his reach; but oh, how he wanted her. The kid was right. It wasn’t fair.
She leaned back in the embrace, keeping her hips against his, and slipped her hands down his shoulders to caress his forearms. His own hands had settled naturally at her waist, and he felt the firm, soft rise of her hips. The heat of her groin against his was strongly alluring. She studied him for a while, her eyes distant, and his heart stumbled when he wondered if she was thinking about kissing him. She blinked instead and said, “I guess I should let you go on home now.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I guess I’ll see you Tuesday.”
“All right.” They parted and he rode away, his stiff cock chafing in his shorts.
For Glenn, Tuesday couldn’t arrive soon enough. It was only a few days, but those days were increasingly filled with desperate longing. He was looking forward to spending the evening with Denny again — he really did love the boy, as he’d told Keira — but even more than that, he wanted to get in some time with her. She’d captivated him, a beautiful woman with bright blue eyes set in a lovely, heart-shaped face, a ready smile, and blonde hair that looked even silkier than her son’s. She was lovely, and she was sexy, and he was becoming more hopeful that she really wanted him around, and not just to help take care of her kid or her car. Maybe any man would do, really; and he was only a teenaged boy, but he’d been the one to step up and actually help out. Maybe that made a difference to her. Maybe she’d grown a little crush on him.
He understood, or thought he did. Most guys her age were married or seriously involved with someone. The single ones were pretty much total losers, either drunks or addicts or just pissed off all the time at the world in general. That, or really good guys — and gay.
A lot of them were probably looking for a quick lay with no complications, but Denny made that impossible. Mostly it was just kids his age who were available on the dating scene, but that didn’t mean she saw him that way, did it?
Or maybe she did. Before he’d left Saturday she had hugged him for a long time, her voluptuous body warm against his slim frame, and he’d had to work pretty hard not to pop one while she did it. He couldn’t stop thinking of her in that bikini, pretty much all tits and pussy, a ripe playground just waiting for a visit from the right guy.
No, he thought. No, don’t think of her like that. She’s not just some chick I wanna fuck, like those sweet tight girls at the club. She’s Denny’s mom, and she’s a lot more than just some things to squeeze and pump. She’s tough, she can take a lot, but if all I want is a screw, I’m no better than the other losers who won’t even go out with her because she has a kid.
The thought surprised him. He’d never looked at Steph that way, that was for sure. Maybe her refusal to mess around with him had been the right idea after all. She didn’t want to be one of the girls who got knocked up at fifteen by the first boy she slept with (supposedly), and spend the rest of her life working at the Dane Road McDonald’s or the Wal-Mart warehouse in Cliveston. Her plans included an Associate’s degree from McMurrough Community College, heavy in medicine, with an eye toward nursing. She had it mapped out, and nothing was going to deter her from having a good, stable, secure life.
His own plans were considerably well less-formed. He liked drawing, and Keira was right that he was pretty good at it, but what sort of life could you have doing art? He didn’t have a good head for math — he got by, but not all that well — so architecture was probably out of the running, and engineering now was all that CAD stuff anyway.
That was drawing, in a way, but it wasn’t organic. There was no physical contact with the media, and he’d discovered after a disastrous semester last year that he really needed that contact. Photoshop hadn’t been too bad, but trying to use Illustrator had actually reduced him to frustrated tears. He just couldn’t wrap his brain around the way the program worked. It wasn’t a pen, it didn’t act like a pen, so why for fuck’s sake did they call it the pen tool?
The only thing he really knew that he wanted, deep in his most secret heart, was something he’d probably have to wait a long time for. He couldn’t become a father with a girl right now. They’d both be too young for it. That was why he volunteered at the club. He loved those kids, every single one of them, even the ones who really worked hard at being a pain in the ass.
It made him feel trapped. It made him feel like he was falling behind, losing touch, because he liked his fat inelegant Sharpies and his sloppy grey pencils, the gentle hiss they made as they glided over the texture of the page. This was not how Modern Artists did it, with their iPads and their Wacom tablets and Maya. He loved art, but he didn’t want to end up offing himself because of a hooker like van Gogh, or spending his life desperate and broke only to be recognized after he was dead, like Picasso. Besides, while he was good, he knew he wasn’t that good. You got that kind of genius once or twice a century, at most. All he’d known for sure, until Saturday, was that he didn’t want to die in Burlingham, and that he didn’t want to live here much longer either. As plans went, those weren’t.
His sudden, hopeless yearning for Keira had caught him by surprise and left him with no idea what to do next. He knew what he wanted, but he was certain it was impossible, and the net outcome was a crushing sense of hopelessness coupled with a confused, flaming desire to be with her, even if all it meant was babysitting her kid from time to time.
Still, when he jacked off he thought about her, imagining little scenes like the two of them washing her car and him spraying her down with the hose until her tee got soaked; or her lying on the shore of the lake and deciding to undo her top for some half-nude sunbathing; or coming home early and catching him on her sofa while he beat off. These bright fevered fantasies always ended in the same way, with him losing his virginity to her in a glorious sheath of smooth warmth, her on top or him on top, with her saying after it was all done that it was the best she’d ever had. Then she’d sit down with him and Denny, and they would have a talk about how Glenn was her new…
Her new what? Boyfriend? Lay? Fucktoy for the time being? Christ. She was a mother, thirty years old and a food-safety inspector at the chicken processor in Cliveston, not some quick and easy catch from Burlingham’s eager Freshman line-up (some of those girls were famous for giving it away, but only to seniors; besides, Glenn wanted something a little more serious than that for his First Time). She’d been around, she had a kid, and she’d probably been hurt a lot of times by now. There was no way she’d want to take on some fifteen-year-old punk who didn’t have clear plans for his own future, or even the first clue how to even really do anything, let alone get it started.
Besides, what would he do, after all, if she ever really did offer to lay him down? What would he do if she even just took off her bikini one day and stood naked in front of him? He’d cum in his pants, that’s what he’d do, like a horny teen kid who could barely keep his load down — because, in the end, that was exactly what he was.
Keira didn’t want to admit to herself just how attached she had already become to Glenn. His sweetness, she was sure, wasn’t an act; he really was a very thoughtful, giving young man. He had a gorgeous, healthy body, maybe a little on the slim side, but he still had growing to do yet before he filled out completely; he had a beautiful smile, braces and all; he had such a handsome face, with pretty freckles accenting the porcelain clarity of his skin; and though he was only fifteen, he was sexually mature enough to know lust. Maybe he’d even acted on it already with a girl or two. Or six or ten. She couldn’t imagine anyone refusing him, at any rate.
And that was a lot of the problem. They lived in two very different worlds, hers made up of memories of passion, some of them good despite the odds; his, she was sure, had more to do with things happening briefly but intensely under bleachers or somewhere out by the lake. His life of sexual exploration was just getting started, while she had more or less cashed it all in when she refused to abort her child. She knew the older girls at the club would probably stand in line to get a piece of him, while her obligations to Denny meant those days were behind her now for good. He was in his mid-teens, still mostly just a boy, getting ready to enter his sophomore year in high school; she was an adult woman and a mother, separated from him by a gulf of experience far wider than a mere fifteen years could account for.
But the other day, when they’d held each other for so long and she knew how fully he’d grown to love her son, she had come perilously close to kissing him and inviting him back inside for a while. She hadn’t given in to her urges, and she both was and wasn’t glad about that. They might have started on the sofa, but they would have ended up in her bed.
She wasn’t uncommonly easy any more, but she was lonesome and missed the good things that happened when there was a man lying with her, moving on and in her. What made her so needful of Glenn’s touch — his basic sweetness, free of any expectations of sex — was offset by what kept the relationship innocent: he was half her age. There was no chance at all that anything between them would last more than a few months at most, probably just a few weeks. As good as it would have been to spend the night with him like that, there was the inevitable morning after to face.
If she didn’t have Denny, maybe it wouldn’t bother her quite so much — she could imagine herself managing to forget about his age for a while — but if she lost Glenn, Denny would lose him too, and it would break his heart. He might be able to forgive her for hurting him like that once, but a second time would permanently cripple her life with him.
She didn’t feel trapped by her son, though. She’d known from the beginning how hard the path was likely to be, and she didn’t ever regret having him in her life. What she hadn’t expected was how difficult the men were with her when they found out she was a single mother. Some of them cut dates short, making up some excuse about a forgotten thing that needed to be done, never calling her back; others, far more cynical, thought they would be able to have their way with her because she must be desperate, not seeing the obvious until she booted them out with their hopes unfulfilled. She wasn’t an easy lay, not now at least; and she wasn’t going to sacrifice the slow improvements she’d managed to make in her life in the name of a few minutes of friction.
That was part of Glenn’s charm. He wasn’t like those men. He wasn’t intimidated by Denny, and he wasn’t out for an easy one-nighter. And she was sure it was because he saw her as a woman, not a girl; she wasn’t a peer, so she wasn’t on his scope for dating prospects, or for sex. For him, Denny was just as he was: a little sweetheart. To him, she was just another boy’s mother.
The worst thing about it was her certainty that his ignorance of her as a sexual being was entirely one-sided. She wanted to get into his shorts, but more than that, she just wanted to lie naked in his arms and fall asleep beside him, with the memory of his flesh within hers still fresh, and the knowledge that they’d wake to share those joys again.
She didn’t want a man as a boyfriend; she wanted an honest-to-God lover … and yes, a man willing to at least consider stepping into the role of father to her son. It came down to availability, and the only male in her life who’d been anything like available for the last six years was hopelessly underage and out of reach.
Despite that, she went on fantasizing about him, imagining the things she wanted so badly to do for him and with him, imagining his caress and kiss, his gentle touch, the solid strokes of his pure male power inside her. She thought sadly of the tender words she wanted to share, how much she yearned to hear him whisper I love you in his silky drawl before drifting off beside her in the dark, his abundant semen settling in her vagina.
It was maddening; it was mad; but she couldn’t change how she felt any more than she could fix their difference in years. It just wasn’t fair.
Denny was lying in his bed, pretending. He didn’t know why pretending like this hurt, but it also made him feel so good, so he pretended anyway.
Glenn was going to take him shooting. Mommy said so, so he knew it would happen and it was okay. He would go out with Glenn with a Real Actual Gun, and shoot at things with it.
He pretended that they went out somewhere and Glenn showed him how to do it, and he did it, and he got the target with a big old hole in just the right place, and then Glenn looked at him with a smile and put his hand in his hair like he did when he did good, and said, you did it just perfect, short stack.
And then they would go back home and swim a while and then they’d go night fishing, with the lamp over the water drawing the fish just like the other night, and they’d have a nice full freezer of fish for Mommy to have, and he would make cornbread for her all on his own this time, and then maybe Mommy would say she’d discovered something about the dumb-butt stupid-butt laws, and how it was okay for Glenn to be her boyfriend if he taught him how to shoot and catch fish and stuff, and how maybe someday Glenn could even be his daddy.
He looked around his room, lit in the moonlight, silver falling across all the drawings Glenn did for him. He used to be so scared of the dark. In Cliveston it wasn’t so bad because all you ever heard was cars peeling out on the streets or people yelling and stuff, and some nights, Rose had been there. He was never really alone. Here by the lake it was different because it got so dark, and so quiet, and sometimes he heard scratching outside and thought it was monsters or crazy murderers, but Mommy said it was probably just raccoons.
Well, he hated raccoons, and pretended that after Glenn taught him how to shoot he would go outside and shoot at the raccoons and make them run away so he could get to sleep and not be afraid any more.
Glenn’s pictures, drawed (drawn) just for him, helped him feel better. Not so lonely. Not as scared.
He really liked everything he did with Glenn, but the best part was when they were on the sofa and watching Nick on the TV the other night. He’d looked up sometimes to see Glenn beside him, so big and strong and smart, and how he could do anything, and Glenn had smiled at him and said things like you’re all right, short stack, and he fell asleep with Glenn’s big strong arm around his shoulders.
When he woke up late that night with Glenn there, he wasn’t scared, because the covers were tucked in real tight and he knew Glenn had put him there and snugged him in all safe, and Glenn was right there all the night long, so big and strong and not scared of raccoons or even those real spooky movie monsters like the girl from that Japan movie about the grudge. He was sure that if she ever showed up, Glenn would chase her right off.
He pretended it happened. It was scary, real scary. It was so scary that he almost believed it. The girl was there in his room and making her weird crackly noises, with her hair everywhere and her creepy crabby crawling on the floor; but before she got him, Glenn came in with a real big gun and said if you don’t leave I’ll shoot you right now, and the girl ran away with a big red clown nose on her face (Mommy said if something scares you, put a poofy red clown nose on it) and he hugged Glenn real tight, and he said it’s okay, short stack. I’m here. And Denny said I love you Daddy, and Glenn said I love you too, son.
He wiped his eyes. He didn’t know why pretending like this made him cry, and he didn’t know why it made him happy to think about it too, all at the same time. It was crazy-butt nutso.
We’re gonna go shooting next time, he thought. Glenn’s gonna show me how, and I won’t be a-scared of the gun when it goes bang, and he’ll say I did it just fine. And then we’ll catch some fish and swim and stuff, and when Mommy gets home we’ll make her food from what we got, and maybe then she’ll say how Glenn can be her boyfriend after all, and maybe someday he can be my daddy. No matter what the dumb-poop laws say. No matter about being young or old or whatever.
That made him think of Rose, his babysitter in Cliveston, and what they did. He didn’t understand it then — he still didn’t now, not really — but it had always felt so good. He’d begun making love before he even knew that’s what it was.
She’d been on the phone one night, talking to a friend, pausing sometimes to smile at him, or tickle him and stuff. “No way,” she’d said to the phone. “He asked you for a BJ? Well, did you do it?” She laughed. “Right on, girl. You nasty.” She listened for a minute, nodding. “Yeah, that’s what Rick always said when I blew him. He didn’t like kissing me afterward either. But I told him if I was gonna do all that work and swallow his stuff, he’d better kiss me when we was done or I wouldn’t do it no more. He got over it pretty damn quick.” She glanced at Denny, all of eight years old and clueless about what he was overhearing. The beads clicked in her cornrows. “Go take a shower and get in your jammies, kid.”
Denny got up, washed himself off and put on his SpongeBob PJs, and by the time he came back into the living room, Rose was off the phone and sparking a lighter over a little pipe. He stood at the edge of the hallway, wondering what she was doing. She inhaled and held her breath for a moment, then breathed out a cloud of smoke. The air was filled by a pungent, sweet aroma. She spotted him and jumped a little. “Oh, hey, kid. Don’t tell your mom you saw me … uh, smoking,” she said. “Okay?”
“I won’t.” Denny came into the room to sit beside her on the sofa, his eyes wide. He’d seen people smoke before, but that was cigarettes, not a weird little pipe thing. It didn’t smell like cigarettes either.
“You’re all right, kid, you know that?” Rose smiled at him and loaded the pipe again, stuffing the bowl with green curly junk that looked like dried-up weeds. “I don’t do it much,” she said, sparking and inhaling again. “Just to unwind sometimes,” she shrugged as she exhaled.
Denny nodded. “Hey, Rose? What’s a BJ?”
The girl blushed, her latte cheeks deepening in color. “It’s, well, it’s something a girl gives a boy when she really likes him.” She lit and inhaled again. He’d surprised her with the question, and she’d surprised herself more by not freaking out about it. This was some fuckin’ good weed.
“Oh. Is it nice?”
Rose stared at Denny for a moment before answering. He was a cool kid, real easy to deal with, and he was kinda cute. In a few more years he’d know for sure what a BJ was. Girls would be lining up around the block. “Yeah, I guess it is. The boys all seem to like it anyway.” She giggled. “They like it a lot when I do it.”
Denny nodded, absently adjusting his penis. He never wore underwear in his PJs, and everything down there stuck together sometimes. “What is it? What do you do?”
Rose was surprised again, but not at his question; this time she was surprised about the thought she had, watching him touch himself. When he took his hand away she saw the little lump there between his legs, and she had an intense, powerful vision of herself taking down his thin pajama bottoms and showing him exactly what she did.
Her pussy flared at the idea. Christ, this was some wicked chronic. Sure, the kid was good-looking, and he had an okay body for his age, but he was eight years old. Just a little young to be getting that kind of action.
She refilled her pipe and promised herself it was the last smoke she’d have for the rest of the night. The last time she’d got this baked, she’d fucked four boys in a row. Getting stoned always made her so fuckin’ horny.
She saw that he was staring at her. Oh yeah, he’d asked her something, but she couldn’t remember what it was. “Huh?”
“I said what do you do?”
Oh, right. BJs. The boy had a one-track mind. Most boys did, on this subject. She giggled again. “Just … something nice, something that’s fun and feels good.” She dropped her arm around his shoulders. “Kinda like hugging, or sorta like kissing, or like when you … uh…”
“What?” There it was again. Denny was fondling his cock.
“Like when you touch yourself like that. When you rub it. It’s kinda like that.” Denny looked down between his legs, blushing. Rose bit her lip. “You do rub it, don’t you?”
“Sure,” Denny shrugged, his eyes meeting hers. “Only Mommy says I shouldn’t do it except in bed or in the bathroom.” He leaned in and whispered. “She says it’s private.”
“Well, yeah kid, she’s right. It is.” Despite her promise to herself, Rose turned on again. She felt that weird mix of horny and laid back that always meant she was in the mood to get some, but the only male around was this hairless little virgin of a squirt. No way would he be making a move on her, and the thought made her feel a little sad.
She looked down and saw that he had a boner, or at least it looked like it. What the fuck, she decided. Why not? He already knows about beating off, and everybody’s gotta do everything for the first time sometime. “You really wanna know what a BJ is?”
Denny shrugged. “Yeah.”
“Okay. Take off your pants, and I’ll show you.”
The boy stared at her. “Huh?”
“Take off your pants. You gotta, or I won’t be able to do it.” She smiled at him. “Go on, honey. You’ll like it if you do. I promise.”
Denny felt real weird all of a sudden, mostly Down There. It was sticking out like it did when he rubbed it, and he felt funny about the idea of taking off his PJ bottoms in front of Rose, because then she’d see his Thing. At the same time, he wanted to know what a BJ was … and he wanted her to see his Thing. It was confusing, and it was exciting. “You won’t tell Mommy, will you?”
“Nope. Just like you won’t tell her you saw me smoking.” This was weird, but she was so turned on now. Denny had never done anything with a girl, she was sure, so she’d be his first. At fourteen she’d been the first for a couple of guys her age, but never anyone as young as him. They’d all had hair. “All right?”
“Well … okay.” Denny lifted this waistband up and shucked off his bottoms, at first covering his dick with his hands. She pulled them away to get a good look at what he had.
It wasn’t too bad, really. It was a little on the small side compared to others she’d sucked, but they were all attached to older boys, so no wonder. There was a weird nubbly line running down the smooth, three-inch-long shaft, over the wrinkly little rise of his nuts. There was no hair to be seen anywhere. “Okay,” she said. “Now lay back and spread your legs.”
Denny did as he was told, feeling funny about showing himself off like this to Rose, but she smiled at him and put her hand on his leg, real high up. Her fingers were chocolate bars on his pale creamy skin. “You look pretty good, kid,” she said, and lifted off her shirt. She wasn’t wearing anything under it and Denny gaped in surprise at her bare chest. He’d seen his mommy’s boobs before, but only on accident; Rose was showing them on purpose. And she was brown there, just as brown as she was everywhere else, but the circles around her nipples were almost black. She looked down at her breasts, then up at him. “Do you like them?”
He licked his lips and nodded. He really did like them, but he wasn’t sure why. Maybe because they were sort of like his Thing, a private part that she wasn’t supposed to let anyone see. They were smaller than Mommy’s, but Denny didn’t care about that, and he wondered why his Thing started jumping up and down like it did when he was touching it. Her rich dark skin was highlighted by golden flares, the light falling across her in pools of bronze. “You can take off your shirt too, if you want,” she said. “Go on now.”
“Okay,” he panted, and squirmed out of the top. He dropped it on the floor, leaving SpongeBob staring up in surprise. He was surprised too. He could barely believe it. He was naked now, all the way naked, in front of a girl.
He knew they were being very naughty doing this, but it was exciting. His tummy felt all funny and jumpy, and his heart was beating real fast. It was just like being on a roller coaster when the cars went up that first hill, just before they got let loose and plunged straight down, and you knew it was going to be scary, but real good too.
“All right. Here we go, kid,” she said. He stared in amazement when Rose reached for his Thing and started touching it. It tickled, but it also made his body tingle all over. She pushed his chest softly, and he lay back down again, staring at her boobs and her hand and the way she moved it up and down on him. It wasn’t the way he did it to himself, but it felt real good. “If you want me to stop, just say so.” She gave his Thing a little squeeze. “Do you want me to stop?”
“No,” he managed. “It’s … it’s okay.” It was a lot better than okay. It was great.
Rose studied the nude boy, massaging his dick and admiring him. He looked beautiful, skinny but well-made, his muscles small and perfectly proportioned. His skin was completely smooth everywhere except for the golden peach-fuzz on his arms, and with each stroke she gave his little cock, his toes curled. His sweet pink dick swelled in her mocha fist. There was something about him that she really liked, something about the mix of his innocence and arousal that made him almost perfectly sexy. “You ready?” she said.
He nodded, not really sure what he should be ready for. He still didn’t know what a BJ was, but something in Rose’s eyes told him that he was about to find out.
She pushed her hair back from her face and leaned forward, and then she — she—
Her cornrows clicked again. Denny gasped.
Rose closed her eyes and sighed, feeling the boy’s warm, soft belly press against her nose. Her lips closed naturally around the length of his penis, as hard and good as any other boy’s, but in miniature and without any hair to get in her mouth. She could take it all in, and flicked her tongue out to lick his little balls. He wriggled.
She opened her lips more, and got his balls into her mouth too. She was sucking everything now, from nuts to tip. Denny shuddered and she looked up into his wide, stunned eyes. She sucked harder, working at his head, and he gasped.
Denny couldn’t believe it. He’d never in a million years guessed that a girl would ever want to touch a boy’s Thing, and especially never put her mouth on it. That’s where his pee came out of. But Rose was doing it, and it felt real good. A lot better than his hand, better even than hers. It was warm and soft and real slippery, and she was doing things that he couldn’t see, but he could feel them all; it was like some kind of super private magic trick.
Rose went on giving him head, far too involved to have any resistance now. The boy was so cute, and it turned her on a lot to know it was his first time. He was in third grade, years away from making sperm or his voice changing, and she was giving him his first BJ, and she knew he liked it. His body was jerking spastically, his thighs twitching while she sucked him off, and she just didn’t care any more about how young he was.
Denny bent his knees, pushing his hips up. He didn’t know why he did that, but discovered right away that it made everything feel even better. So he pushed his hips up again, and Rose put her hands on his butt and started pulling him, and he kept on going, his hips moving up and down under her head. His Thing was moving in and out of her mouth now and he started to get that real good feeling, that sort-of tickle he always got when he rubbed it — only this time it was stronger, and it kept on getting stronger more and more. He opened his thighs as wide as they could go and his Thing jumped in her mouth and Rose made an mm sound, and then light exploded in his brain and burned his body away.
Rose felt the boy’s cock start pulsing, but nothing came out, not even one little drop. He was far too young for that. But he was coming, and she knew it. She bore down hard, sucking him firmly, and he squealed and wriggled under her, his hips jerking back against the sofa. He was trying to pull out, because of the intensity. She kept right on him, not letting him get away, and slowed down only when she heard his breathing change from short rapid gasps to deeper, moaning sighs. He was done with his orgasm. She took her mouth off of him and looked up.
Denny was sprawled on the couch, his head hanging back over the arm, his legs splayed wide before him. His slim little body was filled with warmth. Rose was between his knees, and he felt her bare shoulders shift against his thighs while she licked his Thing. He shuddered. She licked it again and he quivered. She licked it a third time and he giggled and sat up.
His Thing was shiny now with spit, and it looked a little red. It was still sticking straight out, and as he watched she leaned in and kissed the end of it. Then she sat up too. “So,” she said, sounding shaky. “That’s what a BJ is.”
“Wow,” Denny said, his eyes wide. His heart was beating real fast, like he’d just run a long way, and his Thing was jumping up and down again. He felt warm everywhere, good and relaxed and sleepy.
“Did you like it?”
“Yeah. It felt real good.”
She smiled. “I’m glad.”
“Why do they call it a BJ?” He toed his pajama top and giggled suddenly. “It rhymes with PJ.”
Rose laughed too. “You’re right, kid. BJs … PJs. It’s short for blowjob, but I don’t know why they call it that.”
Denny laughed again. He lifted his PJ top in his toes, waving it to and fro like a bright yellow flag. His freshly-sucked penis stood rigid between his slim thighs. His navel was a sweet clean oval in the flat ripples of his belly. His little bare body was alive with youth and fresh from sex, his prepubescent muscles small but well-developed. He really was a very good-looking boy, Rose saw. Young, yeah, but also really sexy, real hot and not at all shy about being naked, at least not any more. “Blowjob! SpongeBob!” He was delighted.
“SpongeBob blowjob, SpongeBob … blow-job!” Rose sang, and she and Denny dissolved into a sea of giggles. She tousled his hair and put her shirt back on. “Now why don’t you go to bed? And if you’re real good and do all the dishes and dusting tomorrow before your mom gets home, I’ll do it again, okay?”
“Sure,” Denny said, and picked up his PJs, but he didn’t put them on. For some reason he wanted to still be naked in front of Rose, even though she was wearing all her clothes. He went to bed, his cute little bare butt on display to her, and as he crawled under the covers, he heard her lighter flick while she smoked her weird pipe again, with its funny-looking grassy stuff in it.
He lay there for a while, still naked. His Thing had kept on sticking up, like it always did whenever he rubbed it. But the feeling he’d had in Rose’s mouth was a billion times stronger than anything he ever got from his hand. BJ, he thought, turning it over in his mind. She gave me a BJ. A SpongeBob blowjob.
He knew it was something he’d better never tell anyone about, because it had happened when he was naked with a girl, and he knew that little boys were never supposed to be naked like that with anyone. It was real naughty, and some people said it was bad if someone even touched his Thing, let alone sucked on it.
He wondered why. It hadn’t hurt him. It was the best feeling he’d ever had in his life.
He heard her get up off the sofa, heard her moving around and doing something out there. She came down the hall and paused at his open bedroom door. In the dark of the hall, all he saw was a dim silhouette, but there was something a little strange about it. It looked too light, and there were two dark spots at her chest and another one below her waist. “Denny? Are you asleep?”
“No,” he said.
“Can I come in?”
“Sure.” His eyes went wide when she stepped past the gloom of the hallway and into the golden spill from his night light. The dark patches resolved to the circles of color on her boobs and a delta of rich black fuzz at the join of her legs. She was naked, just like him. He could see everything.
She was naked in front of him, and she was a girl!
She blinked at him for a few moments, swaying a little on her feet. Her boobs bounced on her chest, and Denny wondered if her heart was beating as fast as his was. Down There, between her legs, there was a little pad of hair, sort of like Mommy’s but not the same color. She wasn’t the same color as Mommy anywhere, but it didn’t matter to him. It had never mattered to him.
She came up to the bed and sat down beside him. Her hips swayed back and forth as she walked, a smooth rhythm that made his mouth go dry. “Are you okay?”
“Y-yeah,” he said. “Why?”
She shrugged and put her hand on his leg, like she’d done before on the sofa. Denny wondered if she was going to give him another BJ. Her almond-shaped eyes were wide in the dark. “I just wanted to make sure I didn’t, like, freak you out or something.”
He shrugged and shook his head. She had freaked him out a little, and she was freaking him out even more now; but he figured that if he said so, she’d leave and put on her clothes and go to sleep on the sofa. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t want that to happen. They were naked together, and it felt good.
“All right. Good.” She lifted the covers, then climbed underneath to lay down beside him. She got real close, snuggling up. “I guess I like you, kid,” she said, “even if you are a white boy,” and her voice was shaking, and she was so close to him now that he could tell her heart really was beating as hard as his. Her skin felt so warm and soft against his body, and he felt her boobs on his chest, and his Thing felt like it was made of bone, just like in the word boner. “Hey, Denny, you wanna see my pussy?”
“Uh … sure.” He thought he already had. Wasn’t that where the hair was growing out?
She pushed the covers down. “Get up,” she said. “Get between my knees.” She spread her legs, making room for him. Denny caught a strange scent from her, almost like bread or something, and stared when she reached down to her hairy spot and did something with her fingers. “Do you see it?”
He nodded. He wasn’t sure what she meant, but he made a guess. There was an opening there, real low between her legs. It was shiny like it was wet or something, and there were these pink things on both sides of it. It was a lot lighter in color than most of the rest of her skin, except on the palms of her hands and the soles of her feet. “That’s it,” she said. “That’s my pussy. It’s where you put your dick in.”
“In there?” She nodded. “Why?”
“Because it feels real good. Even better than a BJ.”
“Yeah,” she said, “here,” and she pulled him forward and grabbed his Thing, and then she said oh yeah, right there, and Denny gasped in surprise when he felt it go into something very warm and very smooth. “That’s good, kid, that’s real good. Isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Denny said. “It’s … great.” It was. He looked down but he couldn’t see his Thing any more; it was all the way in Rose’s … pussy. Her curly black hair was pushed right up against his pale belly. He drew back a little and watched it slip out, covered in something shiny and slippery. It felt good, so he pushed it back in, and that felt even better.
“That’s it,” Rose murmured, and she put her hands on his waist. “You got the idea. Just move it in and out like that.” Fuck, this was going way too far. She knew it. She was having sex with an eight-year-old boy, actually screwing him, but the certainty that she was crossing a majorly-forbidden line only added to the spice of it all. She wanted to get laid tonight, goddamn it, and she was fucking the only boy around; it wasn’t like she could help it. If an older boy was here, she’d be doing him instead. And anyway, Denny sure as hell wasn’t complaining. “Don’t pull it all the way out. Keep it a little bit inside, and then push it back in again. Yeah. Oh yeah, like that, oh fuck yeah.”
He giggled. His creamy hips were moving steadily now between her rich brown thighs, and his Thing felt so good and warm, especially each time he pushed it in. “You said the eff-word.”
“I know,” she smiled, her body moving slowly under the gentle motion of his thrusts. His torso flexed and rocked, the ribs standing out, his little belly showing a hint of washboard. His pecs shifted beneath his small pink nipples, and she reached up to tickle them. He giggled again, but he also picked up his speed.
Denny didn’t know why it excited him so much to see the way Rose squirmed in front of him, her brown skin gleaming; and her boobs were fascinating. They bounced a little on her chest, and the nipply parts were sticking up. He took his hands off of her thighs and reached up to feel them, not knowing just how he understood that he had permission. Maybe it was because they were naked, and she’d given him a BJ already, and now this Thing was in her pussy, in her privates.
Her boobs were soft and very warm, but the nipply bits felt harder and rubbery. When he pushed at them with his fingers she said oh yeah, do that again, so he did, and Rose started moving harder against him. It made his Thing move in and out faster, the gentle friction of her warm and wet pussy building under his skin until he knew he’d be getting that good feeling again soon.
Rose was panting now, gasping under him. She knew Denny had never fucked a girl, and he probably didn’t even really understand that he was doing it right now. That didn’t stop him from enjoying it more and more, and she looked on in thrilled, wicked lust as she watched his orgasm approach. He’s gonna come soon, she thought, this little white boy is doin’ the freak for real, and it was enough to bring out her own climax. His hard little rod was rubbing up against her clit just right, and she jerked her hips up against his and arched her back and screamed.
Denny stopped moving instantly. “Are you okay?”
“Jesus yeah, Denny, don’t stop, keep going…” He resumed his thrusts, his power beginning to rise. “Oh yeah oh yeah,” she sobbed, “fuck me fuck me fuck me kid, fuck me hard…” Pot always did this to her. She loved to fuck when she was stoned. It made her cums last a lot longer.
Denny gasped at her use of the eff-word, over and over. He didn’t know exactly what she meant, but he figured it had to do with the way he kept pushing his Thing in, harder and faster. He kept going, starting to sweat, but the good feeling was coming now, coming bigger and stronger than it ever had before, even in her mouth. He knew something real big was about to happen. He squeezed her boobs real hard and she screamed again and said yeah, boy, fuck me hard, I want you to come, and then the feeling was there, and he shoved himself forward, and he screamed too.
It ran all through him, starting with his Thing but filling his whole body. His legs and rear jumped and made him push real hard into her pussy, and his nipply parts tingled and his skin felt like he was being tickled everywhere at once. It felt so good that it almost hurt, but he didn’t want the feeling to stop. He jerked against her, pushing his Thing in as far as he could go, and he felt her get even more slippery when he did it.
Rose was writhing in pure ecstasy. She’d never fucked a boy without a rubber before — she did not want to end up pregnant any time soon — and the sensation of Denny’s naked cock pumping away in her was incredible. She had never known what a difference it made to feel a boy’s bare dick in her while he cummed. There was nothing to feel except his smooth skin, less slick and more real than anything wrapped in latex. She could feel the rim around his little head, the veins in his little shaft. It didn’t matter that he was firing blanks; it just meant they were safe. And Denny was ramming up hard against her, the pressure of his root making her clit flare with golden light. Jesus Christ, but this boy could fuck.
Then all of her thoughts went away while she shrieked her way through the best orgasm she’d ever had.
Denny gave a final gasping howl and his entire body froze. His Thing was jumping up and down in Rose’s pussy, the friction and heat enormous. He shuddered, his hips jerking forward two, three, four more times, and then the feeling at last released his muscles. He stared down at her, panting, his hands still on her boobs. He and Rose were both covered with sweat, even though they were naked and the covers were pushed down. “Oh … fuck,” he said. It was the dirtiest word he knew, but no other word was strong enough.
Rose sighed and nodded up at him, her chest heaving. Sweat was beaded on her skin, dewy drops shining on the black flesh. “Oh fuck is right. That’s the best fuck I ever had, Denny. Jesus. Jesus Christ. You’re amazing.” She pulled him on top of herself, and she kissed him — right on the lips.
Denny quivered, the feeling weird but real good. He felt her open her mouth and felt something warm and wet touch his lips, and he knew it had to be her tongue. But it wasn’t gross or anything. It just felt great. So he opened his mouth too, and their tongues rubbed together, and his Thing was still in her pussy and his whole body felt like it was made of light. “Gosh,” he said when their kiss broke. “Wow.”
Rose chuckled. “Yeah. Me too, kid.” She pushed him up a little and his Thing popped out, all shiny and warm. Agains the rich darkness of her flesh, it stood out as a glowing shaft. She pulled the covers up and cuddled up against him, and Denny understood that she meant to go to sleep in his bed. That was just fine with him. She kissed on him some more, and he really liked how it felt to have her naked skin pressed up against his own.
“I guess I better not tell anyone about this too, huh?”
“No way,” she said quietly. “If you do, I’ll never be able to do it with you again.” She kissed his nose. “And I definitely want to do it with you again, Denny.”
“Really?” She nodded. He snuggled into her arms. “Me too.”
“Good.” She caressed his head, her fingers combing his thick warm hair. “You know what? You got a girlfriend now.”
“Yeah, kid.” She kissed his forehead. “For reals. When a girl makes love with a boy, it means she’s his girlfriend.”
Denny’s mind lit with brand-new understanding. He’d heard of making love, but never knew what it was. “Is that what we did?”
“Yeah,” Rose murmured. “We made love. And now we’re gonna sleep together, and tomorrow when we wake up we’ll do it again. Okay?”
“Sure. You bet.” They shared a laugh. “But I thought … I thought only grown-ups are supposed to … to make love.”
“That’s what some people say,” Rose said carefully. “But sometimes they’re wrong. Sometimes a girl and boy can feel real … special about each other, like we do, and sometimes they can make love like we did.” She kissed him, his lips tender on hers, his tongue and saliva sweet. “Do you understand?”
“…No,” he said.
She drew him close, so close that he felt her little spot of hair tickle on his leg. His Thing was still hard, and it rubbed against her warm smooth belly. “That’s all right. You will someday.”
Denny nodded and yawned suddenly. Rose smiled at him and closed her eyes, and Denny watched her face for a while until sleep took him away beside her. She was so pretty. So pretty…
The next morning she kept her promise to him, and she kept every other promise she made after that one.
Remembering it all, so many good days and nights of sex, Denny reached into his PJs and started jacking off. He knew that’s what it was called now, just like he knew his Thing was really his dick, and that it went into a girl’s pussy if the girl really liked him.
Rose had really liked him. She proved it over and over again.
But that had been two years ago, and when Mommy found out about it — she came home early one night and saw them asleep together in his bed — they’d both got into so much trouble. And just because of age, just like with Glenn and Mommy now. Rose had been his girlfriend, for real, because she’d made love with him, and showed him how to do it all just right. It had been a great few months, but he knew he couldn’t count on it happening again, with anyone, for a real long time.
Remembering her amazing, mystical naked body under his, atop his, beside his, he came. He rolled onto his side, waiting for his dick to get soft, knowing it would probably happen sometime after he fell asleep. It was usually that way.
The rules weren’t fair, but as he drifted off, Denny nurtured a quiet, bottomless hope that somehow they wouldn’t matter, like they didn’t for him and Rose, at least for a little while. He pretended Glenn was his daddy, and that he lived here with him and Mommy, and in his dreams, he smiled.
Glenn caught a ride with Keira this time, going back to her place with Denny after their afternoon at the club. It made more sense that way, she’d said, since he would otherwise just have to ride his bike out and back; and with his rifle, it would be a little too hard. He accepted the logic and plopped into the seat beside her, his ever-present sketchpad settled over his lap. She wondered if he was hiding something from her. What would she discover if she lifted it away? Half a foot and more of obvious boyhood?
Glenn let Denny chatter on, not fully able to catch his breath. Keira looked so good today, in a nicely close-fitting blouse with the top buttons undone, displaying an incredible amount of cleavage held snugly in place by a bra that showed pink lace at the edges of the cups. The blouse was a middy, exposing her belly and hips, her navel just begging for a nuzzle. Her hair was pulled back from her face, tied in a ponytail to show off her cheekbones and the kissable line of her jaw.
He got an amazing rod almost instantly, pushing up hard in his jeans. The pad helped hide it, but it rubbed against it too, keeping it from going down. He wanted to adjust himself, but there was no way he’d be reaching into his pants with Keira sitting right there beside him. She’d freak right out of her shorts.
Which were very short, showcasing her long legs and plump camel-toe. The seam ran right up her groove, her labia nice and full on either side. God, she was so obviously a woman. Didn’t she realize how good she looked? What it did to a boy to see her like this?
He tried to think of other things, but it mostly didn’t work, and then he found the magic key. All he had to do was imagine what he looked like to her, just some directionless kid from the sticks with middling grades and no clear future before him. Boyfriend? Lover? Ha, yeah, right. That did it, all right, and he was fully shriveled by the time they got to his place.
They stopped there just long enough for Keira to meet his parents at last. They were warm and friendly, and they were clearly a devoted couple. She saw where Glenn got a lot of his earthy realism — his father was direct and no-nonsense — and where his sweetness came from in his mother’s easygoing openness with her and Denny.
They swapped contact numbers while Glenn collected his .22 and a box of rounds. Denny’s eyes were huge when they got into the car and the older boy lay the gun across his lap, directing him not to handle it in any way at all, but just to keep it from sliding around. It wasn’t loaded — Glenn showed her the empty magazine and the open bolt — but she saw that for Denny, it was the most important moment of his life so far, except maybe his first night with Rose. He was holding a genuine, lethal weapon, his hands on a very potent symbol of the continuing exploration of his burgeoning manhood, and she was uncomfortable to see that he had an erection.
The boy cradled the rifle like a sacred relic, his fingers trailing dreamily over the stock. He was silent for the entire drive home.
Glenn offered to start dinner while she got ready for work. She didn’t hesitate, telling him to go ahead and do whatever he wanted in the kitchen. At least she’d stopped saying things like you really don’t have to. He knew he didn’t; he wanted to, though. He liked doing those little things for her, and for Denny too.
He got out a thin slab of elk flank and pounded the hell out of it with a tenderizer, taking out some of his frustration on the meat. Keira was in the shower, water cascading down her naked body, her skin slick with soap; and he wanted to be there with her. He’d always imagined that showering with a woman would be wonderful in all sorts of unnameable ways.
He cut the steak into three portions, seasoned it with garlic, pepper and salt, then dredged it through some flour. By then the butter was sizzling in the skillet, a nice golden color with a nutty aroma. He dropped the steaks into the pan and let them cook for a while, directing Denny in his efforts at making mashed potatoes.
Keira came out of her bedroom, freshly-showered and dressed for work, and watched quietly while the boys busied themselves in the kitchen. They were standing side by side, and Glenn had his arm around her son’s shoulders. In a moment Denny returned the embrace, his grip circling the older boy’s hips. Glenn looked down at him with such a tender smile that she almost wept.
She felt a sudden flare of jealousy in her at how easily they could touch and be affectionate. She wanted the same for herself, wanted to be able to stand next to Glenn with her arm around his waist, her hip pressed close against his. The feeling faded when she thought of how good it must be for Denny to have someone like Glenn around, an older male on whom he could lavish his love, who did the same for him. A surrogate big brother, who knew all sorts of man-things that he was ready and willing to teach, was just what her son needed. Her own desires could be — must be — ignored.
But oh Christ, struggling against her rising attraction was so tiring.
She came the rest of the way in and started setting the table while the boys finished their cooking project. Tonight was pan-fried elk — a little like cube steak, but slightly tougher and much more tart — along with her son’s lumpy, handmade mashed potatoes, and buttered canned peas on the side. Glenn had deglazed the skillet and made a cream gravy that she slopped over everything, just to get more of a taste of it. At this rate, Denny would be a master chef by the time he was Glenn’s age.
She blushed a little to realize she was imagining Glenn still being a part of her life five years from now. He would be twenty then, entirely legal for her to take to bed, but she wasn’t sure she would be able to wait that long. She wanted his body right now, every fifteen-year-old, seven-inch-long part of it.
As fully satisfied as she could be by his meat — there was another meat she needed from him so much more — she went back to her room and started her cameras. She wasn’t worried now that Something Bad might happen, but she was hoping Glenn might repeat the performance of the other night. She bade them farewell, collected her hug and kiss from Denny, and cried half the way to Cliveston. She thought of what her son had said on Saturday. He was right; it just wasn’t fair.
Early the next morning she got another surprise from her nannycams. The boys played checkers for a while, and then she looked on in wonder as they set about cleaning the house. Denny was industrious with his dustmop while Glenn went after the floors with a broom. They finished by taking turns washing the windows, then scrubbing down the kitchen counters. They disappeared down the hall for a while, but the cameras’ views didn’t pick them up in either bedroom. She caught flashes of activity, shadows cast on the floor by the bathroom light, and understood they’d taken their industry in there to wrap everything up.
Glenn sat Denny down with the rifle and spoke to him solemnly about whatever needed to be said. He ran her son through the paces of loading, aiming, and checking the safety. He went into the kitchen and came back with a handful of cans, and let Denny carry the weapon outside.
They were gone for quite a while, and Keira wasn’t sure why she wept so to think of her son learning how to shoot with Glenn. Maybe it was because she knew another chapter of his manhood was beginning, or maybe it was the way her boy looked up at him with such a wide-eyed, worshipful gaze; and the beautiful smile on the older boy’s face. Oh, what Denny wanted. He so wanted a father. He wanted the impossible. It simply could not be, not with Glenn, but he was just too young to understand that.
They came back in, and Glenn showed Denny how to take the rifle apart and clean it, then put it back together. He made it look easy, and watched in approval as Denny repeated his motions, stripping it down to barrel, bolt, chamber, and stock, then reassembling it with ease. He set the gun aside when it was done and she was sure she could read the words on his lips: you did great, short stack. Denny squirmed and glowed. Keira wept again. Her little boy. Her little man. It was like discovering him in bed with Rose, naked and asleep and obviously fresh from making love to her, but it was so much less wrenching.
After that was another stint on the sofa with popcorn and the TV, and before Denny went to bed he lingered for a long while in Glenn’s arms. Keira felt her eyes well again to see it; the older boy was so gentle and held him so near. He put Denny to bed, tucking him in just like the last time, then went back to the living room to work on another drawing, and after quite some time he put his art gear away.
Keira caught her breath. She recognized the pattern already.
Glenn got up to check on her son and closed his door after satisfying himself that he was deep in sleep. Instead of going into the living room, though, this time he went into her bedroom — the very one in which she sat now, just a few hours later.
He looked around but didn’t poke into anything. He stood and stared at the bed for a while, chewing his lip, his hand slipping rhythmically over the rise in his jeans. It was a slow, gentle motion, one she didn’t think had orgasm as its goal, and she was right.
He sat on the edge of her bed, smoothing the comforter, then lay back, resting his head on her pillow. He stared up at the ceiling for a while, one arm behind his head, his free hand continuing to work slowly over his long, hard penis. He turned to face the other pillow, his mouth moving as though in conversation, and she flushed all over when she realized he was imagining himself in pillow talk with her. What was he saying? Was he talking about his day? The things they’d done together? How he loved her, and always wanted to stay by her side as her lover, her mate … and more?
Jesus, she thought. Jesus Christ, am I really imagining this boy proposing marriage to me? And am I really imagining myself saying yes?
He leaned over the other pillow and buried his face in it, and she could tell by the motions of his shoulders that he was breathing deeply. He wanted to capture her scent. She looked over at the bed, live and in person by her monitor, and saw the wrinkles in the pillowcase, just as he’d left it when he took his face away.
In a while he got back up, then went down the hall to sit on the sofa once more. He unbuttoned his shirt, took down his jeans — he was wearing boxers underneath — and masturbated slowly with both hands, for a long time, making it last. His eyes were closed and his expression shifted back and forth between passionate and wistful.
After more than twenty minutes he came, spraying a vast fountain of semen all over his chest and belly. It was more than the last time, a solid thirteen pumps of creamy white glaze so thick it made her think of the gravy he’d served last night. Just as before he cleaned himself off with his fingers, licking everything away, then pulled his boxers back up, doffed his jeans, and turned on his side to slip away into sleep.
He hadn’t used a magazine this time, and Keira felt herself heat at the thought that he might have been imagining her instead, thinking about her while he made himself come.
Keira closed the video window and stole down the hall for a peek. He was out cold, lying on his back, his shirt still undone. In the faint light she saw shiny patches over his pecs and abs, what remained of the dried residue of his cum. In his shorts, he was fully stiff, and she stood over him with her heart in her throat, staring at all he bore.
The nannycams didn’t do him justice, she saw. He was a good seven inches long, maybe more; and his corona jutted fiercely upward beneath the boxers’ cloth. The tip was clearly picked out in the thin, straining cotton, big and full and the perfect cap on a shaft that had to be almost two inches thick. Between his slim taut thighs, his balls swelled ripely, loaded to the top with his potent juices.
Her pussy flooded at the sudden wicked thought that ran through her mind. What if she pulled his shorts down and gave him head right this minute? Would he mind?
Of course not. He was fifteen, young and hard and full of cum. Boys that age practically lived to get their dicks sucked.
She imagined herself doing it, baring his organ, slipping her fingers along the silky hot skin, taking him into her mouth and sucking him gently until he woke up and fired his load right down her throat. She could almost feel how his head would be, a little rubbery and warm, the shaft going rigid and pulsing on her tongue while his hot thick product flooded her mouth until she had to swallow. It probably wouldn’t be the first blowjob he’d ever had, but she would do her damnedest to make it the best.
He gave a sudden snort and stirred a little, absently rubbing his hand over his face, then moving it down to clutch at his risen flesh. He sighed and calmed, settling into deeper realms once more, and Keira barely made it back to her room to collapse on her bed. Her knees were still shaking, both at the close call — what would he think to wake and see her standing over him in the dark, staring at him? — and at the unforgettable sight of his very big, very hard cock, and what she knew she’d been moments away from doing to it. How would that make her any different from Rose, the fourteen-year-old girl who had robbed her son of his innocence? How would it be different from her taking of Eric, and the way that had ended?
But there was a difference, an important one. Glenn was not eight years old, and he loved her son. He was so close to manhood now that they both felt it within his grasp.
She got up and started to close her bedroom door, then thought better of it. She turned off the light and took off her clothes, stripping right down to her skin, then lay back naked on the bed that had briefly cradled his body, rested her head on the pillow he’d briefly shared. Unlike him, she didn’t refrain from making herself come where she lay.
She fell asleep afterward, on top of the sheets and still nude, with her legs and her bedroom door both wide open. She was terribly disappointed to waken that morning still alone.
This time she made the food. She hadn’t really slept much, and by seven she was bustling in the kitchen, churning out scrambled eggs, hash browns, and thick maple bacon. Denny was his usual slumbering self while Glenn snored gently on the sofa. His shirt was still open, exposing his beautiful chest, but his erection had faded sometime in the night. It was just as well; she imagined he’d be embarrassed to wake up with a hardon that prominent, more or less in her plain sight.
She had chosen her wardrobe carefully. She was in a tee that was loose enough to not be blatantly slutty, but she wasn’t wearing a bra under it; on her hips she had boy-cut panties, plain cotton, not lingerie. It was easily passed off as typical morning dress, particularly in light of how little clothing was covering her young guest right now. She could easily get used to waking up every morning with him, dressed just like this.
She had decided in the night. She wasn’t going to wait. She had real evidence now that Glenn was attracted to her, and she intended to let him know she felt the same way, and that he could be with her in any way he wished, any time he wanted. She knew it was illegal, but she no longer cared; he was obviously old enough and she didn’t believe it was wrong. The only question left was how to broach the subject in a way that seemed natural. Hey, Glenn, let’s go to bed and fuck each other cross-eyed might work, or it might scare him off for good, no matter what she’d seen so far.
She wondered if he’d got up in the night to look in on her as she lay in bed, asleep and naked. She wondered if he’d understood that it was an invitation, that she was hoping he would come in to lie beside her and be everything she wanted him to be. Probably not, or it would surely have happened. She knew her looks, knew she had a face and a body that drove men wild — and boys, too. All those years in foster homes and backseats had taught her that much, at least.
Just as she started setting the table, Glenn woke. He yawned and stretched, then stood sleepily to come up to her and watch. His shirt was still open, parted to show the dense but lean muscles of his chest, and she saw the softened peak in his boxers that advertised the fact of his maturity. His hair was a thick tousled mess and he ran his hands through it perfunctorily, then reached behind himself to scratch his ass. “Morning,” he said, his eyes roaming over her body.
“Good morning, Glenn.” She resisted the urge to kiss his cheek. “How was the holy terror last night?”
“Good,” Glenn yawned, stretching again. She heard his spine pop. Keira stole a nice long look at his flexing torso and the way his penis pushed out the front of his boxers, the waistband far below his navel, showing a faint peak of reddish hair. Shy, this boy was not. “He only tried to set the place on fire twice this time.”
She laughed. “So he’s improving. Good. Why don’t you go wake him up and we’ll all sit down to a nice breakfast?”
“Mm,” the boy said, and in a few minutes they were all gathered to eat, just like a real family, with a woman and a man and their son.
Glenn was having a rough time keeping himself in control. He knew he looked sexy dressed like this, at least judging by the way Keira kept glancing at him. She looked sexy too, practically in nothing, unlike last night.
He had snuck to her room to peek in on her after she’d fallen asleep. He hadn’t intended to at first, but when he got up at about five to pee, he noticed that her bedroom door was open — and wondering if she was still at work, he looked in, and there she was. He’d spent a considerable amount of time lately wondering what she looked like nude, but the reality of it went way beyond anything he’d ever imagined.
She was lying on her back, one arm resting across her belly, the other up behind her head. Her breasts were the first things to catch his attention, full and luscious, each the size of half a cantaloupe. Her aureolae were a gentle pink, the nipples standing up plump in them. Her waist was narrower than he’d realized before, and her hips flared fully beneath. Between her long, tanned thighs, he saw that she did keep things trimmed, with just a shimmering strip of curly blonde hair rising up on the curve of her mons. Below that her labia showed in a clean smooth cleft, closed now, but with a faint trace of pink between them.
Glenn’s erection was instant, springing up so fast and so hard that it actually hurt. She looked good; she looked better than good. She was so much more sexy than any porn he’d ever looked at, and he wanted her so much more than he’d ever wanted anyone, including Steph. It wasn’t just her body, either, so boldly on display before him now; it was her, all of her, her laugh and her quiet sadness and her willingness to let him play big brother to Denny. He loved the boy, and in that moment, he crashed right into love with her too — not just the body that Denny had emerged from ten years ago, but the entire woman whose love and life had formed him in every meaningful way.
He stood there for a long time, playing with his hardon, dithering about what to do. He wanted to go to her, to climb into bed beside her and lay down with her, to lose his virginity to her and learn at last what it was like to be with a woman. What kept him away was only that he didn’t know what she would do or say. Maybe she thought he was sort of cute, but he was still just a kid, and she trusted him. If she learned he’d been staring at her naked body while she slept it would be bad enough, but if he actually went so far as to join her in bed, without being invited, he was sure she’d take it badly. She’d probably say she didn’t want her son to have anything to do with him ever again, and might even call the cops to report him for something. Of those two options, losing Denny was the one that really made his heart clutch in frozen terror.
But looking at her now, dressed in only a tee and some kind of wild panties that looked more like little shorts and clung very closely to her ass and pussy, he felt a constant low-grade tingle in his groin. He didn’t want to just jump her like some kind of user-loser, but at the same time he was awash in pure physical lust. He’d jacked off twice the night before, the first time imagining himself making love with Keira and the second time to fevered memories of her nude body. Both times, he’d blown an absolutely massive load. And he was building another one now, his balls already aching and his cock drifting between mostly soft and dangerously half-mast. In his boxers, he knew a full-on boner would be impossible to hide, but he liked the risky game he was playing. He felt sexy, and he wanted her to notice somehow, and maybe think he was sexy too. After that … well, who knew what might happen next?
God, how he wanted her. He wanted to kiss her, to lick her, to be inside her. He was so primed for it that he was actually shivering, his body trembling with pent-up need.
Their talk was awkward, filled with long pauses and clumsy comments. It wasn’t how it normally was with them; they were both on edge this morning. He figured it was because she was tired, but he knew what was wrong on his end. He just couldn’t stop thinking about how she’d looked last night, how badly he’d wanted to get into bed beside her and be naked with her and sleep with her and wake up next to her. They stayed half-dressed for most of the morning, almost like they were daring each other to show off.
Finally, reluctantly, he agreed that it was probably time for him to get dressed and go home, and she went down the hall to change into something a little more substantial while he put on his pants and buttoned his shirt.
Denny rode back with them, thrilled that Glenn had left the rifle behind so he could practice more at taking it apart for cleaning and putting it back together. It was safe; Glenn didn’t leave the kid with any ammo, and before he got out of the car he’d already agreed to be there again Saturday night. Less than five minutes later he was in his room and his dick was in his hand and his cum was spraying out across the laundry basket like the foamy product of an airport firehose.