My Son's Best Friend

We were sitting in the living-room and there was a tennis match on TV or something. A commercial came on with all these cheerleaders in crop tops and shorts that didn't cover their butt, and I was suddenly curious about something.

"Do you look at young girls, Jonah?"

He looked away from the TV at me a little blankly.

"What?"

"Do you - look at young girls?"

"Of course I look at young girls. I look at everybody."

"I mean...do you look at young girls and wish you could be with one?"

Uh-oh. My insecurities were raising their ugly heads again. Wasn't I the one who had prayed once upon a time for him to find a young girl to love? But I wanted to know. I wanted to know where I stood with him.

"Do you ever look at Paul and Kira and wish you had someone like her?"

Jonah thought for a moment, then replied, "Yes."

Damn! Wrong answer!

"You do?"

"Sure. I'm attracted to lots of girls, but none of them have any interest in me."

Tears sprang to my eyes, uninvited.

"You are?"

Jonah looked at me, suddenly sympathetic; but I don't think he had a clue about what he had just done. He was just so bluntly honest all the time.

"Are you upset?" he asked.

I nodded, the tears spilling out my eyes and down my cheeks.

"Why?" He came over next to me.

I broke down then. "Because you don't want to be with me!" I blubbered.

He looked at me, confounded.

"Yes I do."

"But you just told me you'd like to be with someone like Kira!"

"Look, you asked me a hypothetical question. You asked me if I look at young girls. Sure I look at young girls. I look at old girls. I look at women of all ages. They're beautiful. Every one of them would be nice to make love to. I didn't say I want to replace you with one of them."

"No," I said slowly.

I tried to think. What was I really asking here, and what did I really need to know?

"I guess I just have some insecurity about the fact that I'm so much older than you, and I think that one of these days you'll wake up and want someone different than me."

Jonah answered. "If I ever wanted someone different from you, it wouldn't be because she was younger, or sexier. There's something about you that turns me on every time I'm near you. Do you think what you did for me in your truck that day is just nothing? That what happened between us happens all the time? I don't know anybody who has what we have. Paul and Kira don't have it. Nobody does."

"What I did for you in my truck?" I queried. "I thought I was doing something for me."

"Well, no woman ever treated me that way, and no woman ever offered what you did. Do you think it doesn't mean anything to me? It means everything to me."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Really."

"Jonah, you surprise me every day."

"Look, I'm a man. Part of me would love to fuck every woman in the world. But you're the one I get to fuck, and that's no small thing. You're the one who lets me in. You are every woman in the world to me."

I sat with that and tried to think about it. I always tried to accept Jonah for who he was - to let him be quiet and not intrude. But I was glad to know his thoughts. It was nice to know how he felt about me.

If I let myself admit it, I knew this about men already. But, somehow, I hadn't known if it was true of Jonah or not. We hadn't ever talked about it. He was different in so many ways, I had thought perhaps he was different about this too.

But the way he put it was kind of nice. Like, he didn't see me in competition with all the other women in the world. He just saw me as one of the gender which he admired and desired. The one he got to actually touch and possess. And, why was I so worried? Young girls weren't exactly banging down the door to get to him. I had the insight to recognize what a jewel he was. That was their loss and my gain.

I felt satisfied that Jonah's heart really did belong to me.

And that made me want to kiss him and hug him and eat him up. So I went over to his chair, where he was watching the tennis match again, and I sat in his lap and kissed his jaw and his cheek, nibbling into the little hollow below his earlobe, tickling the lobe with my tongue, licking around his ear and moving to the inside.

"Ohh..." That was getting his attention. "I like that," he encouraged.

So I turned around and straddled him with my legs, kissing and sucking all over his face, moving my body in a snake dance over him. We could have done it in the living-room, but I was wanting something that would be more comfortable on the bed, so I invited him there.

He followed me into the bedroom, shedding our clothes as we went. I lay on the bed with my back to him, and he lay behind me, angling his arm under my waist and putting the other one over me, kissing my neck and shoulders, which sent shivers down my spine.

"I want you to come in from the back," I said. "I love it when you do that."

His body began to ripple behind me, and I followed the motion. He doused his cock, already hard, and poked me from the back, sliding along the crack to the place where I was stroking. He pressed up against my hole and through the doorway beyond it, then closed his hands over my breasts.

I arched my back, angling the mouth of my cunt back and up to take him in deeper, jutting my breasts into his hands and my nipples forward so he could finger them. He thrust for a while, building the heat and force, burying his mouth in my neck, biting gently.

Then I told him I wanted to be on my hands and knees, and he withdrew so I could roll over. Lifting his leg over mine, he held my hips, and penetrated me, jousting with his foil, moving forward inch by inch.

I put my head down, and he buried it to the hilt, then his weight pressed on me as he took his hands off the bed and grabbed my breasts again. Clutching me, he was free to thrust with abandon, and I bounced and jiggled with his movements.

It was very roguish and carnal, and I imagined he was a ram, or a goat - uncivilized, innocent, earthy, free.

The swell moved through us, gathering momentum, building its tidal strength; then crashed, drowning us, leaving us half dead and gasping on the shore.

I collapsed under his weight on the bed, slain.

* * * *

Paul and Kira were having problems, and I didn't think they would last much longer. Their carnival had run its course, and the circuit was ending. All that sexual heat had burnt itself out, and there wasn't much else to keep them together.

I felt sorry for them, but I wasn't surprised. It seemed to me that it would take a lot of years before Paul would be ready for anything serious. He had too much playing left to do, and he really didn't know what he wanted to do when he grew up.

I started thinking it was time for him to get out on his own. I have to admit, the idea of having the house to myself with Jonah was appealing, but mostly, I just thought maybe Paul needed to cut the apron strings. He really didn't belong with his mother any more.

I didn't want to say anything, though, because I figured he'd think I was trying to get rid of him, and that really wasn't it. So I just watched and waited, and hoped something would come along to give him the idea on his own.

Then Jonah arrived at the house one day and told me his mother had kicked him out of his house.

"What?!"

I tried not to get alarmed, but this was upsetting.

"Why?...Did she - find out about us?"

"She's known about us. I told her a couple months ago. It just took her this long to figure out that she wanted to get rid of me so her girlfriend can have my room."

"Well, you are a grown boy. It's probably about time for you to move out anyway, but I'm sorry it had to happen this way."

"It's the way she does things. Makes her conscience easier if it can be my fault she doesn't want me around any more."

"So you'll move in here."

"What about my stuff?"

"You mean, your artwork?"

"Yeah. That and other stuff. There's not much space here. You and Paul have the bedrooms."

"Y'know, I've been thinking it's about time for Paul to move out. But I sure don't want to do to him what your mother did to you. I don't know what to do."

I was quiet for a while. Then I got a bright idea.

"We could build you a space! It wouldn't be that hard. It'd be fun! And then, when Paul does move out, you'll still have it for your studio!"

"You really want me to move in?"

"Sure. Why not?"