I.
The bedroom was cloaked in darkness, save for a single candle, its flame casting our writhing shadows on the walls around us.
"Almost there," I grunted, thrusting into Miss Amber. She was lying on her back, legs wide open and wrapped around my waist for maximum penetration. "I'm about to come."
"Yes," she squealed in anticipation, breathing heavy, digging her fingers into my ass, pulling me in deeper. "Give it all to me. Come all over me."
As always, her wish was my command, and as soon as I felt myself reach the point of no return I pulled out, resting my convulsing cock at the base of Miss Amber's stomach as hours worth of building lust exploded all over her. I shuddered and moaned, the bed creaking as every muscle in my body contorted in beautiful agony.
The first was the most intense, an unexpected force of desire that hit her square in the chin. She flinched, a girlish gasp of genuine shock and joy escaping from her lips as my pleasure continued to rain down upon her, leaving trails and globs of my sticky wet essence all across her body.
"Jesus, it's everywhere," she said, giggling with delight. "I think some got in my nose." She wiped a bit up from her face with her finger and sucked it. "Mmm, I think that's the hardest you've ever come."
She was right. Exhausted and gasping for breath above her, I admired my distance. Some had indeed landed on her face, but a little had also settled on her neck and breasts, while most had pooled on her smooth pale belly.
"I guess you just bring it out of me," I said, still hyperventilating.
Laying there, covered in my cum and beaming with satisfaction, I thought Miss Amber had never looked sexier. I brought my lips down to hers and kissed her, not giving a damn if I tasted myself. Her body tensed, surprised by my sudden adventurous spirit, but she quickly responded in kind, gently caressing the side of my face as we explored each other's mouths. This woman had given herself to me once again, and once again I was favoring every moment of it.
Miss Amber and I had been going at it like this for weeks, ever since we finally had sex after a fun-filled night of smoking and dancing. Another barrier had been crossed, and we we're no longer holding back, indulging in each other's hunger as frequently and as often as either of our lives would permit, which it turned out was quite a lot. We met up at her place multiple times a week and did it everywhere we could, the couch, the kitchen table, the shower, though the bed was still our preferred environment for obvious reasons. But that was never enough, and in no time we were sneaking away for quickies at the library, usually in the janitor's closet or staff restroom, and occasionally in the public restroom, the both of us thrilled by the threat of being caught. For the first time it felt like I was living life to the fullest, acting like a fool, taking risks, all with her by my side.
"Come here." Miss Amber grabbed my hand, and placed it at the base of her stomach, just before the swamp of semen settling in and round her pierced belly button. "I want you to rub it in," she told me. "Massage me with your cum."
I obeyed without question, and dipped my fingers into my mess, spreading it around her stomach, taking in the sight and sense of her tight abdomen glistening with my seed. I drew my hands further up and began rubbing more into her breasts, which grew softer and more supple the longer I remained.
"Mmm, that feels nice," she said, eyes closed, body open. Miss Amber's skin was turning baby soft, fortified by and glowing with the life I had spilled on her. I leaned down and kissed her left nipple, which was soft and fluffy and sweet, like cotton candy. She moaned as I continued to run my hands across her body, worshiping at the temple of her nubile feminine form.
The only blight in this otherwise rapturous time in my life was my ever growing feelings towards Miss Amber. Since I'd come to realize I loved her, it was becoming increasingly difficult to push those feelings aside and hide them from her, which I hated doing because the foundation of our relationship was based on honesty. It was the first condition we'd agreed to, and I was breaking it behind her back.
What choice do I have?
I told myself. If I told her, I'd risk pushing her away. Miss Amber didn't want a boyfriend, or some lovesick puppy following her around; I knew this, or at least I thought I did. She wanted a plaything that did what she said, and in exchange she taught me everything I needed to know, sometimes harshly, sometimes tenderly, but that was the deal, and while I was eager at first to fulfill that role for her, that was no longer enough. Ever since that night the lines had been blurred, and with each passing day, as I continued to share her bed with her, I only grew to love her more, tinging all our time together with an inescapable heartache that I desperately wanted to go away.
"Spoon with me Jake."
I eagerly snuggled up behind her and wrapped my arm around her waist, my flaccid cock nestling itself comfortably between her taut cheeks. This had become a common ritual following particularly heavy sex sessions, and was fast becoming the most cherished moments of our nights together, at least for me, if only because, for a brief flash in time, it felt like she was truly mine.
Just tell her
, I thought, staring at the abstract painting hanging on the bedroom wall, the same one that had caught my eye our very first night together. I did this often, imagining Miss Amber and I as the man and the woman, fitting together like two perfect puzzle pieces from a distance, made just for one another.
Tell her now
.
"Miss Amber?" I whispered.
"Yes?" she whispered back, sounding half-asleep.
"It's, a, well, I..."
I trailed off, searching for the right words, until I noticed Miss Amber's peaceful heavy breathing, and stopped.
"Never mind." I leaned down and kissed her on the neck. "See you in the morning."
I turned to the nightstand and blew out the candle, leaving the two of us shrouded in total darkness.
II.
I was suffering from some serious mental fog when I came home later the following morning. It was another deathly hot and humid day, which certainly did me no favors as far as my state of mind was concerned. I hadn't had a decent night's sleep in what was feeling more and more like a lifetime ago, my head racing with anxious thoughts and feelings regarding my swiftly approaching university life. Days and weeks were becoming a blur, melting into each other, making it almost impossible to tell one moment in time from another.
Goddamn this heat
, I thought, sweating as I fumbled for the keys to the door. Thankfully my father had the good sense to finally turn the air conditioning on, though he still insisted on turning it off during the night in an effort to save on the electric bill, and since the nights were no less muggy than the days, by morning the house would be sweltering once more.
I sighed with relief as slightly cooler air greeted me at the door, and was halfway to my room when I saw my father sitting at the kitchen table, halfway through what was likely his second or third cup of coffee.
"You're back," he said, sounding slightly accusatory.
"Uh, yeah," I responded, "why wouldn't I be?"
"Well, you've been gone a lot. I don't think I've seen you for days."
It was true. This was the first time my dad and I had spoken a word to each other in weeks. Between all the time I had been spending with Miss Amber, as well as at work and at the gym, our paths had rarely crossed, and when they did, he was usually passed out in front of the television. This time was different though. He was very clearly awake and alert, and had obviously been waiting for me, his face resting in that "we need to talk" self-serious look that I always dreaded.
"I'm guessing you wanna talk?"
"Yes son, I do." His was voice was gruff, but unmistakably warm.
"Can I at least take a shower first?" I reeked of sex, and figured it was best for both our sake to wash it off before our little chat.
"Sure bud," he said. "I'll be here."
I took as long as I reasonably could, and when I finally returned to take a seat across from him at the kitchen table, he just stared at me for a few awkward seconds, startled by the version of his son sitting before him. I was in no mood for this heat, so I had thrown on a simple black tank top, something I wouldn't have felt comfortable wearing mere months prior, which took him by surprise.
"What?" I admit, I was slightly amused by his reaction.
"Nothing," he said calmly but quickly, clearly wanting to change the subject before it began. "So how have you been?"
"Nothing new. Work. Gym. Friends."
"Girlfriend?" he guessed.
I looked down and blushed a little, still uneasy over the idea of discussing subjects of a sexual nature with my father. "I guess you could say that," I admitted, "but it's not serious."
He took a sip of coffee, looking at me like he knew everything, but left it at that, much to my relief.
"Don't get too distracted Jacob. You've only got a little summer left before school starts."
"Yeah I know," I said. "You don't need to remind me."
"Have you thought about what you need to take with you? We should start making a list-"
"I got it dad." I was exhausted and frustrated and already sweating my ass off, and the last thing I wanted was to be reminded of the inevitable change barreling towards me. Sure, I had convinced myself to view college as an opportunity, not a burden, but deep down I was still uncertain and afraid, feelings of which were heightened by the emotional mess I found myself tangled in concerning Miss Amber.
My dad looked down into his nearly empty coffee cup, tapping it lightly with his index finger, contemplating how to navigate around the distance that had been years in the making. "Look, I know things haven't always been easy for us since your mother passed..."
"That was a long time ago," I stated coldly. "I'm over it."
He looked at me for a few seconds, seeming slightly hurt, and nodded.
"Still, I-" He stopped, straining, searching for the right way to say what needed to be said. My dad was never one for letting his guard down, so watching him attempt to do so here was a particularly painful endeavor.
"I am proud of you son," he said suddenly. "You know that, right?"
Something about the way he said it sounded genuinely sincere, and if he was being honest, it was only fair that I be too.
"Sometimes I wonder," I said.
He sighed. "I know you don't like it when I push you. But I'm your father, and that's what fathers do."
"That's very philosophical of you."
"I'm being serious Jacob."
