My Sons Best Friend

My son Paul had his driver's license taken away, so I ended up chauffeuring him around for six months.

One day, we went to pick up his friend, Jonah. Jonah was a late bloomer, and his body had recently outgrown itself, angling awkwardly into over-sized hands and feet and tree-like limbs. He ambled out to the truck, and his shy half-smile stretched into a brief grin at me as he folded himself inside.

There had been a short argument over who should sit in the tiny back seat. The negotiated compromise put both boys into the one front passenger seat, with Paul by the window.

Jonah's chestnut hair was wet from his shower, and I could smell the scent of lavender on his freshly-scrubbed skin. His left leg spilled over the bucket seat to the space between us and pressed against the gear shift as I moved it in its right angles. He was wearing cutoff corduroys, and coarse dark hair curled along his sinewy legs.

When we arrived home, there was a message calling Paul into work; so Jonah went along for the ride. Relegated to the cramped back seat by Paul, who argued he would have the front to himself all the way back, I could see his face in the rearview mirror every time I glanced back. Little coarse nubs dotted his jaw, and fine dark hairs fringed his upper lip. He sat quietly with that half-smile on his face, staring ahead with his piercing black eyes.

Jonah was not fond of words, and didn't converse with Paul or me on the way there. So I didn't force small talk once he had extricated himself from the back seat and taken the place vacated by Paul.

In the silence, my mind examined the raw data being fed to it by my senses. I breathed in the soapy lavender smell and the dampness of his hair, thinking that it is one of the few scents I love. I mused upon the suddenness of his recent growth spurt; the dark coarseness of his hair, so rampant on his body now; the solidity and denseness of his large frame, now creating such a presence in my truck.

It was as if the powerful hormones which had produced this abundant growth were palpable. I felt a yearning within me toward that growth, like the thrust of a cotyledon in spring toward the sun. And the seed of an idea began to ferment in my brain.

I was suddenly aware of the weight of my own breasts which pressed my nipples into points through the yellow cotton knit of my turtleneck. I could feel our pheromones mingling and playing in the space of air between us.

By the time the half hour drive was half over, my plan was sealed. There was no question that my house would be our first stop, and no stopping the question I had to ask him. As hesitation turned to resolve, the vague sense of yearning turned to hard evidence, and a tingling sensation signalled the rush of welcome to my port of call. My breathing was already heavy, and moisture was seeping to the edges.

I glanced over at him, wondering if he knew the effect he was having on me. When I looked back to the road, he turned his head toward me, and his gaze was long and intent. I glanced again, and his eyes dropped. I raised my arm to the top of the steering wheel as I peered ahead, so the round firmness of my breasts was fully visible to him. The tingling in their points was as intense as if his eyes were fingertips.

I moved my left hand to my chest, and brushed my fingers lightly down and over the right nipple; then buried them between my legs.

When I glanced a third time, he was staring straight ahead, but I could see the sweat glistening in the fine hairs of his upper lip, and his hands fumbling absentmindedly in his lap. Was the beast beneath them rousing? Of course it was! I couldn't wait to release it from its prison.

I knew for a fact that Jonah was not a virgin. Paul told me he'd had an encounter with a college girl last year. The thought that he had already tasted the forbidden fruit, yet could not have fully apprised it yet, made him even more appealing than if he had never tasted. He had an idea of what he was in for, yet not the half of it. How delicious.

Mercifully, the drive was almost complete. I didn't know how much longer I could endure the wait.

We bounced and bumped up my narrow dirt driveway and landed between the two cactus plants which stood guard over it. I shoved the gearshift into first, yanked the emergency brake, and turned to him.

His eyes met mine, and they were unafraid.

"I know you're a person of few words. So I only have four of them for you," I said. "Do you want me?"

A small gasp escaped from his parted lips, not unlike the tremulous sob at the end of a crying spell, and he lifted his arm toward me without any certain objective.

Extricating my legs from under the steering wheel, I turned my body over his, pushing my swollen labia through jeans and seams against the mound I knew would be there under my splayed legs, knees bent into the back of his seat. His arms closed around me with surprising grace, and his kiss was firm, and masculine, and hungry. His tongue kneaded mine, and his hands found my breasts. His noises were like mews and whimpers; like a puppy crying; like a forlorn kitten found.

I suspected that he wouldn't last long this way, and since my foreplay was already twenty-six miles long, I wasted no time unfastening my jeans and his, and unceremoniously wriggling out of mine, pushing and shoving them with legs and knees cocked at awkward angles, naked ass emerging, one leg and then the other. Bracing my feet on the seat, I lifted my bare ass into the windshield and hovered over him so he could straighten his torso and pull down his short pants, which landed in a puddle around his ankles.

There it was. He was wearing no underwear, and below the furry dark growth around his navel which extended like an arrow down his pelvis, there it was. Fat and red and sleek, bursting its seams, its taut head shiny smooth and wet with pre-cum, it was magnificent. A chuckle in the back of my brain confirmed what I'd always heard--big hands, big feet...big! It was luscious.

Lowering my ass, the target rushed to the shaft and found its mark. I closed my eyes, sliding luxuriously down his pole until I had swallowed it to the base; but not before I had held his eyes with mine and found them guileless and wanting.

I rode him then, up and down, up and down, like a pony on a carousel. The music whined, the world spun, and all was cotton candy and glossy red apples forever. The bell rang, the siren sounded, the clapper clanged, and his explosion within me imploded as my body became his and his mine for one moment in time.

Our panting slowed, and we soon came to know that we were two again. He kissed me tenderly with his eyes closed, while mine were open; all over my face, he kissed me; and caressed my breasts under the turtleneck, and lifted it carefully over my head, so he could mouth the flesh of my chest. And he buried his big hands in my long curls, and massaged my scalp; and held me close to his chest and licked my cheek.

He was so warm. So comforting. So sweet.

And I knew I could never do this again.