Chapter 11 – The plot thickens

Waking up was easy. Getting out of bed a different thing entirely. She was still there, in the indent in my chest where her head had lain all night long, her hair pooled at my navel and across my right pec, dipping down to tickle my armpit whenever I shifted in my sleep.

Ha, shifted! Chance would be a fine thing.

Ok, so I didn’t shift much – you couldn’t really, with two people in a single bed. But what it didn’t provide by way of comfortable space to spread out, it sure made up for in coziness. And that is where I lay, warm and cozy, buzzingly alert down below, as I remembered the night’s escapades.

Then I woke up entirely as I realised she was no longer in bed with me. The memory of her head and arm, her hot fingers tracing my bare skin making laying still all the more deliciously difficult, had fooled me into believing that she was still there, still beside me, wrapped around me. But no, she wasn’t.

My back and knees creak as I shift to a sitting position, feet tentatively touching the floor, before I realise that I am home, and only have thick carpet to meet my feet, rather than the cold concrete of my dorm room.

No school.

I lay back down, stretch and smile, my hands behind my head, glorying in the sunshine streaming in through the window, ignoring my burning throat. Echoes of reality try to crash into my happy daydream, the flat concrete ceiling bulging in through my happy erotic fuzz, but I force them away. There’ll be plenty of time for harsh realities later. For now, I am alone, safe and warm in the cocoon of my own memory. This is mine.

I can remember her entering my room as I lay there, soaking up the rays from the window, letting the sunlight play across my naked form, glassy where our mingled juices have dried against my skin. An image of her licking me clean make my rebel jerk half-hard. Her eyes catch the movement and amusement blinks back at me.

“You’re awake.”

“Yes, it seems that way.”

“I was just washing up, after last night.”

“Yeah.” I sit up reluctantly, glancing down at my crusty flesh. “I guess I should clean up too.”

“No.” She enters the room and drops her towel, showing off her glorious nudity for anyone rash enough to look up into my bedroom window from outside in the street.

There’s no one out there. My parents lived in a quiet cul-de-sac, peopled by the retired elderly couples who don’t often leave their homes, let alone stand out on the sidewalk beside their neighbours’ homes, gawking up at bedroom windows for hope of a peep of human flesh. But if they were, they would get an eyeful.

I can picture the view right now from outside, my visitor’s voluptuous breasts standing perky, nipples proud like accusatory fingers, smiling down on my ever-growing hardness. The idea that we are visible arouses me even more. So much so that I am near bursting by the time her fingertips brush my head, then stroke my shaft.

Suddenly her mouth is enveloping me, her hot tongue tracing from the edge of my sack up to the tip, then around the top, teasing the lip between my roundhead and the ridge beneath, enticing me to jerk against her tongue, my own personal mini-me twerking dance of pleasure, which makes her grin and smile around my heat as she slides her head back down to take me all in. I cannot help myself, but turn her so she is sitting over me, her hot, clean centre hovering over my lips, begging to be kissed, pouting lusciously, still warm from the shower.

I lower her onto my awaiting tongue, and slurp her lips into my mouth all at once, tonguing between to tease her clit, then releasing her, my fingers squeezing and kneading her cheeks, pulling her down onto me, then releasing the pressure to let her pull away, teasing herself against my mouth and tongue, my fingers tracing down the backs of her thighs before sliding back up again to part her cheeks and finger her rosebud. Her hot moan in my ear has my heart racing, and suddenly we are wrestling to get on top, both of us fighting to be in control, to dominate. I laugh as we flop around, twisting and turning, only ending up sideways, where the friction of entering her nearly makes me explode on contact, let alone when I am gripped deep within her heat. We stay like that for a long moment, before the passion takes over, and we are grunting and jerking, searching and kissing, squeezing and kneading ourselves into a wild frenzy of sweaty limbs, bitten nipples, fingered orifices, and slobbering tongues.

I freeze, my entire body rigid, as I come deep inside of her, enjoying the grip of her inner muscles on my length as she milks me dry, before sliding off of me to lick me clean.

Looking down the slight curve of my own chest and belly to see her smiling up at me, gripping the base of my slowly softening self, eyes wide, looking up at me like an erotic version of the old, “Kilroy was here,” cartoons, turns me on all over again, and I am hard once more, the zombie-reborn arising from the ashes of my libido in her hand, much to her amusement and my own surprise. This was the fourth time in less than twelve hours, surely a record for me.

Seemingly hours later, exhausted and happy we both enter the shower together, and make love again, this time up against the tiled wall, her soaked skin extra-sexy as it slips against my own, her inner warmth hot and wet, spilling out over her lips and down her legs as we work our way into what I like to think of as the backwards horse, and what other, more base individuals, like to call ‘doggy-style.’ (I can’t think of it as doggy-style even now, with the imagery of the debased debauchery that goes on around me in my current prison of the soul seeping into my memories of those earlier days of constant release and refreshment. Why did I leave?)

We talk over breakfast, and she tells me her story; that her parents threw her out because she was rebellious, and didn’t want to do what they thought was right – go to school, study, take life seriously. She just wanted to have fun. (Later on I would find out how true this was.)

She makes a phone call from my parents’ home phone just as my dad comes in from his morning swim, only pausing momentarily to look at her, and then me with raised eyebrows, before punching me in the arm as he walks past in his beige bathrobe to start the coffee percolating.

“Good night then?”

“Yeah dad. Good night.”

“I figured.” He peaks around the corner at my guest chattering away happily on the phone, taking in her innocent stance, and the excited movements of her hands and arms, before turning back to me. “You might want to keep an eye on that one. She looks like a real handful.”

“But she’s nice. And I’m only helping her out, because she needed someone to help her.”

“More like helping yourself.”

“Come on, dad. It’s nothing like that.”

“Calm down, Josh. I was just Joshin’ you.” He punches my arm to confirm that he was just ‘joshing’ me – his running joke about my name which I make my usual face at as my guest comes into the kitchen and catches my father looking at her.

“Hi, Mr …”

“Baker.”

“Hi Mr. Baker.”

“Hello, Miss …”

“Julia. Julia Crenshaw.”

“Hello, Miss Julia Crenshaw. Very nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you to, Mr. Baker.”

“You can call me John.”

“Nice to meet you, John.”

He smiles distractedly as she leans over to shake his hand, her free-hanging breasts clearly visible through the neck of my oversized t-shirt. She really does look good in my clothes.

My dad manages to break off his stolen glance, pour himself a coffee, and excuse himself with a bemused nod, before heading back to his room to get ready. My mom is only just getting up, having worked several long shifts in a row at the local hospital. Better get Julia off before mom wakes up. I knew I would get the third degree. There was no reason for both Julia and I to suffer. You’d think I was still seven. No matter how old I got, my mom always treated me like a child. It was both wonderful and exasperating. Wonderfully exasperating.

I bite back the tears that threaten to pour down my cheeks as the real world pushes in and I realise that I have never been further from my mother’s warm hugs, or my father’s contented smile.

Julia had gotten the point as soon as my dad had disappeared, grabbing the last of the toast and dragging me upstairs to get into her own clothing. I was disappointed that it was over so soon, but something told me that we would be seeing much more of each other, and that was fine by me. Besides, I had to get on and do something with my spare time. Like study.

I laugh out loud at that thought, as Julia drags me up the stairs, back to my bedroom, to stand and watch her strip and start putting on the underwear that I had put through the wash the night before, for her.

She stops just in her undies, and steps up to press her bare breasts against my chest, kissing my lips, then tonguing my ear while whispering, “I’ll be back,” in the sexiest version of Arnie’s famous quote I have ever heard before or since. I laugh, then gasp as she kneels before me, unzips my trousers, and lets my half-hardened self drop out into her hand, before stroking me and looking up into my eyes, her perfect breasts outlining her top-down profile centered by my own accusatory fleshy digit.

“Yes?” She makes a comical pouty face up at me, putting one warm hand on my stomach before turning to look at my heat in her hand, and talking to me down there, as if the me up here didn’t exist, and all that she could see or even care to know was in her hand.

Her hot lips sucking me in and soaking me from base to tip, then hairy balls, nearly blew me off my feet. I could barely stand, and after a few moments I actually had to sit down or risk falling over and knocking myself unconscious.

She tortured me, making it last forever, bringing me to the edge, then letting me down as she stroked me while looking up into my eyes, rubbing my soaking self against and between her pert breasts, before fingering herself with one hand while stroking and sucking me off with the other.

When I came, it was from deep within; a well burst, and all of me shot out through my tip into her mouth, which hungrily swallowed me down and suckled for more, until I fell back onto my bed, exhausted.

She laughed as she dressed, teasing me with her own excitement as her hand traced my cheek gently, then slapping me lightly to get me up and out of bed.

In the car, she told me about the friends she was meeting at the mall, asking if I wanted to meet them. I declined, thinking that all I wanted to do was to go back home and sit outside by the pool, sipping iced tea while soaking up the rays, remembering her naked body bouncing and sweating all over me.