Written and Contributed by Helen E. H. Madden
“Okay, next I’d like to go over the plans for this summer’s camping trip.”
Joe Flannigan squatted on my couch like an old black bear shaking down a state park picnic bench. On either side of him in a loose ring sat the various scout leaders and den mothers of Pack 59. I sat opposite Joe, as far away from him as I could get, curled up in my ex-husband’s easy chair with my feet tucked under me. I fought the urge to scream as Joe pawed open a battered red binder and a sheaf of loose papers spilled onto the floor.
While Joe fumbled with his scattered notes, he spoke. “For those of you who weren’t at last month’s meeting, we took a vote and uh, decided that Deer Park would be a better venue this year than Falls Creek Park. It’s about uh, fifteen miles closer and has better bathroom facilities…”
And on he droned, going into detail about the many advantages of Deer Park. I shifted in my chair to keep my ass from going numb, surreptitiously looking around to see if anyone else was paying attention. The women hung on his every word, even the ones who were supposed to be happily married. The guys, including a gang of Eagle Scouts home from college, were slowly nodding off.
I was dozing too. To keep myself awake I focused on the action taking place on the floor by Joe’s feet. Two young men dressed in nothing but ripped jeans knelt in the middle of my Persian carpet kissing each other. They were in their early twenties, clean cut and very attractive. Their names were Jordan and David. I’d discovered them the night before on a gay porn site. Jordan was a lean, leggy blond with nice abs and a shaved pubis. David was short and slender with dark hair and a tight ass. The kiss they exchanged was long, slow, and deep, the kind that heralded more interesting activities to come. In this case, that meant a nice, hot, nasty tease culminating in some very intense oral sex, maybe anal too if Joe yammered on long enough. My imagination could go all sorts of places when I got bored.
The boys pressed up against each other, grinding their hips together in a dry-hump fashion. Jordan, the more aggressive of the two, had already unzipped his jeans to play with his cock. His fingers glided over the leaking head and then came up to his partner’s lips. Shy but obedient, David opened his mouth to taste.
While David sucked on his fingers, Jordan pushed him back onto the floor. The slim brunet closed his eyes and spread his legs, his head coming to rest by Joe’s size 12 hiking boots. With a smile, Jordan tugged at David’s baggy jeans, pulling them down to expose half an inch or so of curly black pubes. I could just see the base of David’s rigid cock trapped beneath the waistband. Jordan began to work his way down David’s torso, licking and nibbling as he went. When he reached David’s hips, he nuzzled the exposed bit of cock and pulled the waistband down a little farther. David squirmed. His cock strained against the worn denim. Whimpering and writhing, he pushed his hips up against Jordan’s mouth. The wiry blond just grinned and continued to tug at the jeans until finally he stripped them off in one fluid stroke.
I watched the boys go at it on the carpet as Joe and the rest of the pack committee faded away to nothing. There were only these two perfectly beautiful young men performing for me, acting out whatever I chose for them to do. When Jordan tongued the slit of David’s cock head, the younger man blushed furiously. He was a virgin, I decided, never had another guy go down on him before. Well tonight was his lucky night. Jordan was going to do all sorts of nasty things to him. I let him start by running his tongue up and down the length of David’s cock, then lick the head like an ice cream cone. David spread his legs even wider and began to beg. “Please… please…” I heard him whisper. He bit his lip as Jordan slipped a finger between his ass cheeks, searching for David’s tight little hole. When he found it, David clawed at my carpet and cried out–.
“Anything you want to say about this, Diane?”
“What?”
David and Jordan evaporated, leaving me stuck with Joe. I glanced at the scout master’s bovine face and inwardly groaned. The other den moms considered him a heart throb. To me, he was a big, dumb ox in muddy boots who left a trail of dirt in my house every time he came over.
“Is there anything you wanted to say about Deer Park?” Joe repeated.
I hunched back in my chair. “It’s clean, it’s close, and it’s cheap. Do we really need to know anything else?”
Joe chuckled. “We can always trust Diane to get straight to the point, right everybody?” The others nodded. “Why don’t we move on to the next topi–?”
“Actually, why don’t we take a break?” I interjected. “Some of us could use a trip to the john.”
A rumble of eager assent went up. Joe reluctantly bobbed his head. “Okay, but no longer than fifteen minutes.” He fiddled with the timer on his watch. “Ready… set… break!”
The Eagle Scouts bolted first. They scrambled out of their chairs and stampeded from the room, stopping only long enough to snag some sodas and a bag of chips before they disappeared. The rest of us stood up slowly, wincing as the feeling returned to our lower halves. I debated between putting out more snacks for my guests or high-tailing it out of there. It was a short argument. After indulging in such a steamy little same-sex fantasy, my clit was screaming for attention. I decided to give it higher priority and made a bee-line for the master bedroom.
Folks lined up in the hallway outside the main bath. I nodded to them as I hurried past. The master bedroom had an attached bathroom. I planned to go in there, lock the door and then finger myself to my heart’s content while I flipped through my favorite porno mag. If I missed Joe’s fifteen minute deadline, I didn’t give a damn. I never wanted to host his stupid meeting in the first place.
My hand was on the knob when the bedroom door flew open and Amy, one of the den moms, waddled out. “You might as well use your other bathroom,” she said. “The one in here’s occupied.”
“Gee, thanks for the warning.” I scowled as she ambled down the hall. Aside from Amy, who else would be rude enough to go into my bedroom without asking first? When I saw the track of muddy boot prints on my carpet, I decided I didn’t want to find out.
I slunk back to the hallway bath. The pack committee secretary, a pasty blonde named Maureen, still waited outside the door. “Well hey there stranger,” she purred as I slouched against the wall.
“Hey Maureen.”
“It was awful nice of you to let us crash your place again.” She giggled. The high-pitched noise grated on my nerves.
“Yeah well, Joe insisted. Apparently nobody else has a big enough house.” Except for maybe Joe, Amy, Maureen…
She studied her nails. “You know, Joe’s quite a guy.”
“Uh-huh.”
“He’d be a real good catch.”
“I suppose,” I replied, suddenly intent on my own manicure. “But I’m not in the market right now.”
“Oh? Have you met somebody?”
“No, I’m just too busy. Besides, I’m still dealing with the divorce.”
“Well it’s a shame you and Frank split up,” Maureen said, showing way too many teeth as she smiled. “But at least he let you keep the house.”
I smiled back. “Yes he did.” Not that he had much choice, I thought. Frank was scared shitless that I’d blab about his dirty little secret. The house was his way of paying me to keep my mouth shut. And I would, for the time being.
“By the by,” Maureen nattered on. “Have you heard from Mark lately? Or are you not speaking to him?”
I stiffened. “Why wouldn’t I speak to Mark?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I mean, he is your son and I know you still love him, but for him to choose that kind of life–”
“Mark didn’t choose anything,” I snapped. “It’s just the way he is, and if you don’t like it, don’t bother taking a crap in my toilet!”
“Well, I never!” Maureen gasped, pressing a hand to her heaving bosom. I struggled with the urge to slap her and was close to losing when my bedroom door burst open.
“Eleven minutes left ladies!” Joe blustered. He leered at me as he clomped down the hall. “Hey Diane, I love what you’ve done with the bedroom. Those animal print sheets look hot.”
“Well thank you for being rude enough to barge in there and check things out, Joe!”
I shoved past him, stalked into my room and slammed the door behind me. As soon as the lock clicked, I rushed into the bath and grabbed the sink with shaking hands. My head was spinning, raging spots of red and black surging across my vision. Fuck Maureen. That poisonous bitch had done nothing but crow since Mark came out. And fuck Joe too. Who the hell did he think he was — God’s gift to lonely old women? Well he could go chase someone else, because I didn’t qualify. So what if I was forty-two and divorced? So what if my husband was gone and my own son refused to talk to me anymore–?
Oh god. I shoved a fist in my mouth to keep from sobbing. Mark wouldn’t speak to me. I didn’t give a damn about Frank. That relationship ended years ago. But the thing with Mark hurt. It had been six months, and he still wouldn’t pick up the phone when I called. I sank to the tiled floor.
It took several deep breathes to calm me down, a whole five minutes out of Joe’s precious potty break time. I never should have agreed to keep hosting the committee meetings. I should have rejected the scouts the same way they had rejected Mark. Damn them anyway. What did they know, bunch of self-righteous pricks?
My head lolled back against the wall. Through the vent in the ceiling came the raucous laughter of rowdy young men. I winced. Houses with secrets shouldn’t have thin walls. Frank’s study was behind the one I rested against. It sounded like some of the Eagle Scouts had taken it over. I could guess which ones; Eric Holtz, Jimmy Steadman, Karl Chavez and Jake Kelly. As little as a year ago, there would have been five of them in there, the Heathen Five as I used to call them, but for obvious reasons Mark wasn’t a member of the club anymore. I wondered if they even remembered him. I pressed my ear to the wall to listen.
“–wears satin briefs!”
“No way. A thong, purple latex!”
“Dude, you know she wears white cotton granny panties!”
A roar went up. I scowled. Fucking college boys. Just back from school and every one of them a swaggering sex god with a bevy of young girls begging to give him head. I decided I didn’t need to listen to their crap, but as I got up to leave I heard a name I didn’t expect. Mine.
“Come on, guys. Don’t talk about Mrs. Horner like that. She’s nice.”
Cool white anger settled over me as the rest of the group muttered at the dissent. So it was my skivvies they were discussing, was it? I recognized the voice that spoke in my defense. Jake Kelly. He used to be Mark’s best friend before… Well, before. I sat back down to hear more.
“Yeah, she’s a nice lady I guess.” That was Eric Holtz, the self-proclaimed leader of the Heathen Five. He wasn’t the smartest, just the biggest and the crudest. “She bakes cookies and all that shit, and she still invites us over, even though Mark’s gone.”
He talked about my son as though he was dead. I guess to him, Mark was. I heard Karl Chavez snort. “Of course she still holds the meetings. What else is she gonna do? Mark’s run off with the fucking queers and her husband’s dumped her. She’s gotta keep busy. Otherwise she’s just some lonely old biddy sitting around knitting socks all day.”
“You know, I hear old man Horner left her because she’s frigid.” That was Jimmy Steadman. He always had more mouth than brains.
“I don’t know about frigid,” Eric responded. I heard the couch in the office groan beneath the weight of his beefy ass. “But she certainly looks a little chilly this evening, doesn’t she?”
“Oh man, did you notice that? Mrs. Horner’s going without a bra!”
“I’ll bet Jake noticed it. Look at him, he’s turning beet red!”
“Knock if off.” Poor Jake, he was the only decent one of the bunch. “Why do you guys have to be so rude?”
“Oh come on, it’s not like she can hear us.”
“It doesn’t matter, it’s still rude.”
“Uh-oh, sounds like someone’s in love.” Jimmy Steadman started singing. “Jake and Mrs. Horner, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n–”
“Fuck you, man!”
I heard a hard smack. “Ow, shit! That hurt, dude. Now I know you’re in love!”
“Hey, you know what we should do?” The sofa groaned again. Eric must have leaned forward to share his latest spark of genius. “One of us ought to sneak into Mrs. Horner’s bedroom and steal her underwear.”
“What?”
“Dude, you’re insane!”
“Forget it!”
Eric laughed. “Seriously. Someone should go in and steal her panties.”
“What the hell for?”
“’Cause I want to know what she’s wearing. Hey, if she didn’t want me to think about her underwear, she shouldn’t have quit wearing a bra!”
The room erupted with howling. The hair on my neck stood straight up and a low growl emanated from deep within my gut. I was going to kill these boys.
“I know who’s gonna do it, too,” Eric announced in a sing-song taunt.
“Break’s over guys!” The study door banged open and Joe’s hearty baritone terminated any further discussion of a panty raid. I grabbed the sink to pull myself up and splashed cold water on my face before venturing back out to the meeting.
“Nice of you to finally rejoin us, Diane,” Maureen sniped as I settled back into the easy chair. Joe flashed a wolfish grin at me before resuming his discussion of the upcoming Fourth of July barbeque.
The meeting dragged on. I faded in and out, participating only when I had to. Jordan and David returned to pick up where they’d left off, but the fantasy had lost its edge. The boys seemed fuzzy, like a grainy porno reel run through an out-of-focus projector. After a while, I gave up on them and switched to more spiteful fare. I imagined Maureen on her hands and knees, nosing at Joe’s crotch while he balanced a soda can on her flattened skull. She didn’t know it, but beneath his flannel shirt Joe sported a pair of red sequined pasties. He hid the matching g-string beneath his overlapping gut. Maureen found it as she fumbled her way through a blow job and gasped. It was an amusing reverie for all of two minutes.
After that, I ran through some of the other committee members I didn’t like until I got bored and started cooking up scenarios for the Eagle Scouts. After all, they had speculated on my undies. Why not do the same to them? I briefly imagined each young man stripped of his clothing. Karl, with his sunken chest and skinny limbs, looked like a cadaver in unwashed boxers. Jimmy, for all his carefully toned physique, failed miserably to fill out a red posing pouch, and I shuddered to imagine Eric’s porcine bulk in anything but long-handled underwear with the trap door securely shut. Jake Kelly though… I watched him from the corner of my eye as he fidgeted in his chair. Jake was short, probably the only Heathen I could still look in the eye, but he had developed nicely while he’d been away at college. His shoulders were broader than I remembered, and a fine pelt of dark hair covered his forearms. His face, shaved smooth, had traded the softness of boyhood for high cheekbones and a square jaw. I felt a tingle of warmth spread through me as I studied him. Had he really noticed I wasn’t wearing a bra?
I shook my head and turned to my mind to something else. I didn’t need to think those kinds of thoughts about Jake. He was a good boy. He’d been Mark’s best friend at one time, had spent a lot of time in this house. His father traveled a lot on business. His mother wasn’t exactly stable. There were rumors, the kind that made me worry about a sensitive kid like Jake. I still worried about him, to be honest; all the more reason not to think of how he might look undressed.
Except that once started, that train of thought proved impossible to stop. Jake Kelly in boxers… Jake Kelly in briefs… Jake Kelly in a jock strap… I tried to distract myself before he lost his underwear all together, quickly summoning up the fantasy of Jordan and David again. This time they came back with a vengeance, both of them naked and sweating as they struggled on the floor. Jordan had David’s hands tied behind his back and a spreader bar forced between his knees. He stood in front of the dark-haired boy and pushed his cock into David’s open mouth, sighing as warm wet lips slid all the way down to his shaved groin. The fantasy was hot now, coming through in crisp, clear detail. All except for David’s face. Something strange was going on there. His features shifted and blurred. When they came back into focus, David was gone and suddenly I was watching Jake suck on Jordan’s cock.
No. No, no, no, no. I closed my eyes and tried to switch it back. Inside my head, I returned to my computer where I had spent the previous night surfing the net for porn. I remembered the pictures I had found, of an agile young man with dark hair. I had saved them to my hard drive to peruse later on. I must have right-clicked on a dozen images of Jake… no, David, I meant David. I had been saving pictures of David to look at later. I’d downloaded a movie too, something to watch while I masturbated. A submissive brunet, down on his knees sucking cock, just like Jake was now–
Shit.
The harder I struggled to keep Jake out of the fantasy, the more he became a part of it. I couldn’t help it. I had problems with fantasizing about things I shouldn’t want. It started shortly after Frank kicked Mark out of the house. Our son had gone off to Berkley to study architecture. I knew he was seeing someone at school — I could hear the excitement in his voice whenever I called — but he never talked about it. That is, until he came home for Christmas. Then he told us he’d met a nice boy named Ben and that was that. My son was gay. I thought Frank was going to have a stroke. I wished he had. I wished that fat bastard had dropped dead in his tracks right then and there. Instead, he lunged out of his chair and backhanded Mark across the room before grabbing him by the neck and throwing him out the front door. I screamed at Frank, pleaded with him not to do it. Mark was our son. But Frank shoved a finger in my face and told me no, no boy of his could ever be a fag.
Mark came home one last time after that, to pick up his things. I had to pack everything for him. Frank refused to let him in the house. When I helped load his car, Mark wouldn’t even look at me. I think he blamed me for letting his father beat him.
With Mark gone, my heart felt as empty as the nest. I began to clean, going through the house like a whirlwind, scrubbing the floors and the walls, emptying closets, sterilizing my home. But there was an indelible stain on the place that I couldn’t erase. It came not from Mark and his admission of who he really was, but from Frank and me, the hypocrites who had let him down.
By February, I had worked my way out to the garage. The air in there was so cold, it froze coming out of my lungs. Still, I was determined to purge the place. Bundled up in an old parka, I made my way through the clutter to a stack of decayed boxes stuffed behind the workbench. I began to pick through them, ready to throw out whatever I found when beneath a pile of Popular Mechanics, I discovered a secret stash.
I had seen dirty magazines before — my brother used to collect them — but they were nothing like these. There were no pictures of naked women spread out across the glossy pages, legs splayed and breasts swinging free. There were only men, young men twined together, touching each other, kissing…
I should have been horrified. I wasn’t. I should have put the magazines away immediately. I didn’t. Instead, I dropped to the frigid cement floor and flipped through every page, lingering over images of hot-blooded studs masturbating, fucking, and giving each other blow jobs. There were entire issues filled with spanking and fingering, rimming and fisting. One magazine included a centerfold of a dark-haired fellow blindfolded and manacled to a wall, with a string of heavy beads the size of golf balls dangling from his ass. I looked at those pictures until my panties were soaking wet. Then I tucked the magazines back in their hiding place and went to my bedroom to masturbate. It was the first time I’d touched myself is seven years.
I revisited that box several times over the next few weeks, poring over the pages until I’d memorized every face and naked body. I told myself at first that I was looking because I wanted to understand my son. I wanted to know why Mark wanted other men. But that was just bullshit. I looked because I saw something I wanted. And I kept looking until one day I realized something. The magazines weren’t Mark’s. They belonged to Frank.
It was the publication date that gave it away. Frank kicked Mark out on Christmas Eve. The magazines I found were current. When my homophobic husband came home that evening, the box was waiting for him on the kitchen table. He screamed at me when he saw it, accusing me of dragging filth into his house. But the next day I tore through his tool shed and found another stash, one that included photos of Frank and another man. I only had to show him the first picture. Three days later Frank was gone. I told everyone he’d been having an affair. I let them assume it was with a woman.
So Frank was gone. Mark was gone. Maybe I was gone too. I started buying my own magazines. They weren’t hard to find. And then there was the internet. I surfed through gay porn sites night after night, teasing my clit as I clicked from one dirty picture to the next. I ran my credit card bill through the roof, but so what? I could afford it. That’s what alimony was for, right? To pay for the things I needed, like Jordan and David?
Except that now they were Jordan and Jake.
Damn. After half an hour of fighting, I gave up and let my imagination take its course. It wasn’t hurting anyone, I decided. Jake didn’t know what I was thinking and he would never find out. Once the meeting was over and everyone had left, I’d draw the blinds, turn on the computer and search for new fantasy material until I found something that would put Jake Kelly out of my head for good.
Meanwhile though, I watched Jordan guide imaginary Jake’s head into my lap in preparation for some anal play. I kept my eyes on the fantasy boy-toy, not daring to look at the real thing sitting across the room from me. The wet-dream version moaned and cried out, pressing his face against my thighs as Jordan slipped a couple of well-lubed fingers into his ass to loosen him up. Jake squirmed, rocking his hips in time to the rhythm Jordan set. “Please… please…” he whispered. When Jordan was ready, he knelt behind Jake and thrust into him in one smooth stroke.
“Well, I think that’s enough for now. Diane, anything to add?”
I shook my head and continued to watch Jordan pound Jake’s ass. Even Joe couldn’t disrupt my little dream world now. The meeting broke up around me. People scarfed down the last of the snacks and soda then said their good-byes and wandered out the door. I stayed rooted in my chair, unable to look away from the face in my lap as it grimaced with fervid anticipation. At last, a violent shudder rippled through the dream, from Jordan to Jake to me. I heaved a sigh and the boys disappeared.
“Diane? You okay?”
A meaty paw gripped my shoulder. Joe squeezed hard in a ham-handed attempt at a massage.
“I’m fine.” I knocked his hand away before he could snap my collar bone.
“You sure? You seemed pretty out of it tonight. I was thinking maybe this business with Frank–.”
“–is private and I’m not going to discuss it with you.”
I pushed out of the chair, ducking beneath Joe’s arm to avoid another bone-crushing squeeze. “Look, the meeting is over and I’d like to turn in for the night.”
“You don’t have to spend it alone,” Joe protested as I propelled him toward the front door.
“Why not? It sure beats the alternative.”
I slammed the door on Joe’s sad-sack face and threw the lock. I felt a furious, brittle sort of satisfaction which only sharpened as a torrent of guffaws reached my ears.
“Oh man, he actually went for it!”
“He is so busted!”
“Hey! What are you boys still doing here?”
I crept over to a window and cracked the blinds. Outside, a trio of familiar, mocking figures clustered together in my driveway. Eric, Karl and Jimmy backed away as Joe stalked toward them.
“Mr. Flannigan?” Eric stuttered. “Are you still here? Uh, we were just leaving.”
“Then leave already,” Joe snarled. “The meeting’s over.”
“Gee, I guess so,” Jimmy muttered.
“What did you say?”
The boys scrambled for their cars. Joe glared at them until they drove off then cast a last bitter look back in my direction.
“Meeting’s over,” I whispered. “So leave already.”
Mercifully, he did.
Joe’s car pulled away, taking my rage away with it. I sagged against the window frame. I felt tired and hollow. The place was empty, no one left but a lonely old woman in bad need of a porn fix. I trudged back to the office. I would surf the net for a while, find some new eye candy to gorge on, maybe masturbate until I could finally fall asleep. In my mind, I was already putting together a list of terms to search. Gay, twink, blow job, anal…
When I reached the hallway though, I froze. A sliver of light cut through the darkness, coming from the bedroom at the far end. Who the hell was in there now?
A ghost of laughter drifted back to me. Outside, only three figures had huddled in my driveway — Eric, Karl and Jimmy. Where then was Jake Kelly?
I crept to the bedroom, heart pounding. Please don’t let Jake be in there, I thought. I didn’t want to find out he was just like the others. I needed to know that some things stayed good in life, no matter what else went wrong. But when I reached the cracked door, my heart sank. He was there, standing at my dresser with his back to me. I caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror. His brow was furrowed, his jaw sternly set. Here was a man on a mission.
I wanted to tear my hair out. Nothing was sacred anymore. Yet even as he reached for the dresser, a stab of excitement cut through me. I had spent most of the evening imagining Jake on his knees, performing every nasty trick I could think of. Did I really want him to be innocent? I held my breath as he opened the first drawer. Nothing in there but socks and nylons. Jake frowned and shut it, then reached for the next one. The stuff in that drawer was a little more interesting. It was my everyday underwear, the plain cotton stuff I wore to clean house or do yard work. Jake pulled out a bra and unfolded it, draping a cup over each hand. He stared at it as though trying to decide what to do. I leaned closer to the door, watching, waiting. When he rubbed his thumbs over the cups in small, teasing circles, I shivered. My nipples took an instant hit, tightening as though he was touching me and not an empty piece of clothing. He pressed the bra to his face and sniffed at it, first one cup then the other. I trembled as I felt that too.
I should have stopped Jake then, but I didn’t. I was too shocked. He set the bra aside and pulled out a pair of blue panties. Once again, I felt his fingers on me, brushing ever so lightly over my lower lips as he stroked the garment in his hands. When he held the crotch up to his face and nuzzled it, a sizzle of electricity shot through me. The panties in his hands were clean and dry. The ones I wore were now soaking wet.
Jake took another deep sniff before reaching for drawer number three. I heard a sharp intake of breath and I knew what he’d found — the good stuff, lingerie. He sank his hands into tissue-thin layers of black lace panties and matching garter belts. I’d gone on a vindictive little shopping spree after Frank left and now owned more lingerie than I could use in one lifetime, all of it the kind stuff wet dreams were made of. Mesmerized, Jake pulled out one item after another, touching and fondling everything he found. It was the panties he liked best. Every pair went straight to his face for a lingering sniff and a cuddle. A dark purple thong, one of my favorites, went into his front pocket. A lacy pair of boy-cut briefs soon followed. When he tucked a crotchless g-string down the front of his jeans, I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out. I wanted to sneak up behind him and shove my hand in after it, not to retrieve the g-string but wrap it tight around his swelling cock. And it was swelling. I could see it in the mirror just as clearly as I could see his face. The sight made me sweat.
As Jake picked up another thong, I crept into the room.
“When you’re done with that drawer, you should try the nightstand. I keep the best stuff in there.”
Jake stood very still. I walked over to the dresser.
“Hello Jake.”
“Hi Mrs. Horner.”
“You know you shouldn’t be in here.”
“Yeah, I know.” He set the thong back in the drawer and faced me. “How’s Mark?”
I hesitated, not expecting the question. “Okay, I guess. He’s not speaking to me right now.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“How’s your mother?” I countered.
“Oh, she keeps busy. She’s fucking Larry Holtz these days.”
I blanched. “Eric’s dad?”
“Yeah. Eric doesn’t know about it yet.”
“Oh god, Jake, I’m sorry.”
“Why?” He laughed, but it was a pained smile that crossed his face. “It’s not your fault. That’s just the way Mom is. Dad doesn’t know how to keep her happy, so she goes somewhere else. Of course, I don’t think Mr. Holtz can keep her happy either.” He glanced back at the open drawer. “Are you going to tell her about this?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On why you did it.”
Jake ran his fingers along the top of the dresser, staring at the crumpled silk and lace. “Eric tried to get me to do it last fall before we left for school, but I told him no. It didn’t seem right.”
“But it’s okay now?”
He nodded, still staring at the drawer. “Things are different now.”
“Different how?”
“I don’t know. You’re single, I guess, and I’m a little older.” He studied me. “And you act different. Not angry, exactly. More like…”
“Dangerous?” I suggested. I certainly felt dangerous.
“No. Hungry.”
The word hit too close to home. I was hungry, starved in fact. I was a ravenous beast and he just was standing there like fresh meat, baiting me to tear into him. It shocked me, what I might do to him, almost as much as it excited me. I picked up the thong he had dropped back in the drawer, wondering how far I might go.
“Why do you sniff them?” I asked, holding the lacy fabric up to his face. For the first time, Jake blushed. He ducked his head and muttered something. The beast inside me howled at his vulnerability. I tucked a finger beneath his chin and tilted his face up to mine. “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that.”
“I said I wanted to know if they smelled like you.” Jake licked his lips then plunged on. “Sometimes, when I stand next to you, I can smell you.”
“Really? Can you smell me now?” I asked, stepping closer. My breasts brushed up against his arm. My nipples turned to tight knots beneath my tee.
“Yes,” he breathed. “I can definitely smell you.”
“Do you like the way I smell?”
“Yes. I like it a lot.” He inclined toward me and brought his face to my neck. “You smell warm,” he whispered. “And wet. Are you wet, Mrs. Horner?”
When he looked up at me, his big grey eyes were bright as stars and deep as oceans. I could swim in those eyes, just strip off all my clothing and dive right in. And maybe I’d drown, but I didn’t really care.
“Are you wet?” he asked again.
“Why don’t you find out, young man?”
Shock and embarrassment colored his face, and for an instant I could clearly see the strange creature I was dealing with, a rare hybrid of man and boy, innocence and lust. A sexual creature stripped of all pretenses and more naked at that moment than if I’d ripped off all his clothes.
Then Jake’s hands moved to the waistband of my jeans and I was the one who felt naked. He looked down, face rapt in concentration as he fumbled with the fly. The zipper peeled apart to reveal the g-string I wore underneath. His fingers stroked the damp patch of ivory silk before pulling it aside to touch bare skin. I was completely smooth down there except for a narrow strip of curls running down the center, just enough hair for him to comb his fingers through as he explored.
“Oh god,” he breathed. “You’re soaked.”
His fingers glided over my slick pussy. I grabbed his wrist to guide him. “Here. Like this.” I cupped Jake’s palm over my groin, setting his middle finger on my clit. I rocked toward him, savoring the feel of his hand on my cunt. When was the last time someone other than me fingered my box? I couldn’t remember. But fingers weren’t enough. I could see Jake’s cock outlined beneath his jeans, the way it jutted up and to the left. I contemplated the straining bulge then thought darker, deeper, to a tight little secret I suspected was still virgin to the touch.
“Do you like this, Mrs. Horner?” Jake murmured as he rubbed my clit. “Is this what you want?”
“Diane,” I murmured. “When you’re fingering my pussy you call me Diane.”
“Diane… Diane…”
Jake said my name over and over as I pulled him to the bed. He stumbled after me, fingers still tangled inside my jeans. At the bed, I tore open his shirt and tumbled him onto the mattress. He reached to pull me down on top of him, but I pushed him back.
“No. I don’t want a straight up fuck.” I leaned over and tugged at his jeans and briefs until I could play with the head of his dick. “I’ve got something else in mind.”
“Like what?” he murmured. His hips lifted off the bed, pushing against my hands. Semen leaked from his cock. “Tell me what you want and I’ll do it. Anything you like.”
“I want to play with your ass.” I reached into the nightstand by the bed to pull out a small black vibrator and a tube of lubricant. “I want to slip this inside you and make you come.”
Jake gaped at the silicone bullet in my hand. I smiled. “Say yes. You can eat my pussy while I do it. Maybe I’ll eat you too.”
I grazed his cock with my fingernails and he moaned. Without a word, he lifted his hips again and pulled down his pants.
“Good boy.”
Jake kicked off his shoes and jeans while I stripped. A trail of black fur ran down his belly. I buried my face in it and followed where it led. His cock smelled of soap and heat and musk, his underwear of bleach. I worked at his briefs some more until his dick sprang free to bounce against my face. There was the g-string he’d taken earlier, snuggled around his balls. “This looks better on you than me,” I said, wrapping the bundle of lace tight around his sac before sliding his briefs down to his ankles.
I climbed onto the bed. The moment I straddled Jake’s face, he grabbed me by the hips. His fingers dug into my flesh. His tongue darted between my lower lips, catching me off guard.
“Wait!” I gasped.
“No. You said I could. You promised!”
So I had. I swiveled my hips above his face, savoring the feel of his greedy mouth nuzzling at my shaved cunt. The feather-light flickering of his tongue over my clit threatened to send me right over the edge. I grabbed the lube, determined to make him come first.
With greased fingers, I coaxed open Jake’s cheeks. He grunted as I probed his anus. “Easy now, don’t clench.” I went slowly, tracing the puckered rim of his hole as he whimpered into my cunt.
“Good boy. Good, sweet boy. Take a deep breath.”
I slipped the tip of my finger inside him and was rewarded with an anxious whine. Lube smeared between his cheeks as I pressed on. Once I got the second knuckle past the double rings of his sphincters, I worked my finger in and out. Jake pumped his hips to my cadence.
“Do you like that, sweet boy? Let me give you some more.”
Jake groaned as I slipped in another digit. His ass was slick with lube now. He bucked beneath me, his hot mouth feasting on my pussy. I took his cock in my mouth and sucked, all the while fingering his hole until he started to beg.
“Oh god, Diane, oh my god!”
Then I gave him the dildo.
“Is this what you wanted?” I demanded, sliding the black silicone into his gaping hole. “When you snuck into my bedroom to steal my panties, was this what you hoped for? My pussy in your mouth and my fingers up your ass?”
His only response was to lick my clit with renewed fervor. I pumped the dildo into his hole, transforming fantasy to reality with surprising ease. I wanted what I shouldn’t want, and I didn’t care. Jake Kelly was mine to do with as I pleased. If I wanted to fuck him, I would fuck him. If I wanted to finger his ass, I’d damn well do that too. But more than anything at that moment, I wanted to make him come. I wrapped my lips around his dick and sucked hard. The dildo slid in and out of Jake’s ass. The boy beneath me writhed and cried out, and I realized as he came that I should have been a gay man just like my son.
“Diane! Diane…”
Jake was crying. I eased the dildo out of him and set it aside. Come leaked from the corners of my mouth. I crawled around to kiss his tear-streaked face. “It’s okay honey. Everything’s okay. You’re going to be fine.”
Still shaking, he pulled me down to the bed. “Not finished yet,” he choked out. “Lay back.”
I obeyed, curling my fingers in his hair as his mouth returned to my cunt. He teased my aching clit, the touch of his tongue a sweet agony that filled the emptiness inside me. I thought he would ravish me. Instead, slowly, patiently, Jake brought me back to the brink then gently pushed me over. I came in near silence, his name a whisper on my lips.
Later, I stood over Jake and watched him sleep, his chest rising and falling in a lullaby rhythm. His briefs still hung around one ankle. I removed them, careful not to wake him. A gnawing unease settled over me, the queasy pall of reality. A thousand stinging doubts and accusations assaulted my brain. He was only nineteen, for chrissake. What the hell was I thinking?
I tucked his underwear in my nightstand drawer and settled on the bed beside him. I knew exactly what I was thinking.
Next time, we would take pictures.
Talk Dirty To Me 