Upstairs, Downstairs
By Jacqueline Jillinghoff
Jason
Becker is a sweetie, by far my favorite of the kids I babysit. I started two
years ago, when I was thirteen and he was nine. His parents had just broken up,
and his mother needed someone to look after him two nights a week while she
taught a class at the community college.
I
have Mrs. Becker’s word for it that he’s the genius of the sixth grade, but
I’ve also seen it for myself. He’s always talking about the books he’s reading,
and real books, too, like War of the Worlds and Sherlock Holmes — the
originals, not some dumbed down kids’ versions. He always has his homework
finished by the time I come over. We sit up playing grown-up games like
Scrabble and Trivial Pursuit, and most of the time, he whips my ass.
Mostly,
though, we just talk. Or he does. Since he discovered Star Trek reruns on
cable, I can’t shut him up about it. He hounded his mom until she bought him
all the episodes on DVD. He loves the idea of flying through space and meeting
aliens, and he reads all the space books he can get out of the library. He
should be in an accelerated program, or maybe moved up a couple of grades, but
Mrs. B. says no. She went that route when she was a girl, she says, and she
thinks it’s important that Jason learns to get along with kids his own age, at
all levels of ability.
The
only problem with that plan is, he doesn’t have any real friends except me.
Last
Friday, Mrs. Becker called me and asked if I could come over. Friday isn’t one
of my regular nights with Jason, but she said she just had to go out.
She didn’t say, but I could tell she had a date. She had that excited quiver in
her voice, and she told me I would probably have to spend the night — “if it’s
not too much trouble.” I live across the street from her, so it was no problem.
I said OK, and not just because she offered me fifty dollars. It was because
she sounded desperate. She must have been dying to get laid.
I could sympathize. I wanted to
get laid, too. That afternoon, my boyfriend Eric sent me a text message on the
phone he gave me. All he said was “ca6,” which is our code for “call after 6.”
I was hoping it meant he could get away from his wife and their kid that night,
and we could go somewhere and get it on. He’s like forty, and he’s taught me a
lot about sex. We’ve been fucking about a year. When I graduate from high
school, he’s going to leave his wife and marry me.
I
told Mrs. B. I would be right over as soon as I made a call and packed my
overnight bag. Then I dialed the number only Eric and I use.
“I
got us a room up on the boulevard,” he said.
I
knew the place he meant. It’s called the Jefferson Motel, and it has hot tubs
in the rooms and mirrors all over and what they call day rates. Eric calls it
the fuck palace.
“I
can’t, lover,” I said. He likes it when I call him lover. “Mrs. Becker needs
me.”
“Is
that the one with the freaky kid?”
“He’s
not freaky. He’s sweet. Besides, she’s giving me fifty dollars.”
“I’ll
give you a hundred.”
“I
can’t. I promised.”
“Come
on, girl. Don’t make me show you who’s in charge.”
“Hey,
I can always call the cops,” I said. I kid about that, but it sweetens him up
every time.
“All
right, go,” he said. “But next time I see you, I’m going to spank your ass.”
I
turned the phone off and groaned in frustration, pulling my skirt up and
pressing my hand against my crotch.
“Well,
I hope you get some tonight,” I said out loud, meaning Mrs. Becker. “One of us
should.”
I
was still wearing my school uniform when I ran across the street to Jason’s
house. The weather was getting warmer, and we’d switched from our winter
tartans and sweaters to our spring outfit — a white knit shirt with a couple of
buttons under the throat, khaki skirt and white knee-highs with penny loafers.
The uniform was my proof of purity. An outward sign instituted by God to give
grace. Saint Agnes Academy for Fucking Catholic Girls. Like it’s going to keep
any of us virgins.
When
Mrs. Becker opened the door, Jason was already in his pajamas, and he had one
foot on the bottom stair. His face was glowing the way it does after he’s had
his bath, his hair was glossy, and I smelled honeysuckle soap.
“He
said he wants to go right to bed,” Mrs. Becker told me while she multitasked,
checking her hair in the little mirror near the front door. “He’s had his
supper, and there’s a vegetable lasagna and salad in the fridge if you get
hungry. I probably won’t be home until tomorrow, but you can stay in the middle
room even if I come back tonight. You have my cell number. We have eggs and
cereal and all kinds of fruit for breakfast. Thanks, Sweetie. You’re a doll for
doing this on such short notice. Jason, be good for Beth, and Beth, don’t let
him talk your ear off. Have a nice time, you two.”
She
pecked him in the cheek and handed me two twenties and a ten, and she was out
the door. She really must have wanted it bad. I hadn’t even put down my
overnight bag.
“Where’s
she going so fast?” I said.
“I
don’t know. She just said something came up, and she had to meet one of the new
professors at school.”
So
I was right.
“What’s
the guy’s name?” I asked.
“It’s
not a guy. It’s a woman.”
“Ohhhh
— cool,” I said.
I
tossed my bag into a corner and planted my ass on the sofa.
“Now
I am your queen,” I said. “You want to play a game?”
“Uh
uh,” Jason said. “I’m really tired. We had two tests in school today and a
spelling bee in the afternoon. I just want to go to bed.”
“Jason,
it’s only seven o’clock. It’s not even dark yet. I’ll even watch one of your
DVDs with you.”
“No,
I just want to go to bed.”
“Come
on, Brainiac, keep me company.”
“Please?”
“All
right, go,” I said. “But the next time I see you, I’m going to spank your ass.”
“Huh?”
I
never hit him, ever, and I think I must have scared him a little.
“It’s
just an expression,” I said. “Go ahead up.”
He
bounced up the stairs two at a time. He didn’t look all that tired to me.
“How’d
you do in the spelling bee?” I called up after him. “As if I didn’t know.”
“Beat
the seventh-graders,” he said as he reached the landing. Then he was gone, too.
It
was weird. Two years I’ve been babysitting him, and he never goes to bed
without an argument. He always wants to play another game or watch another
video or talk. He always tells me I’m his best friend, and now he couldn’t wait
to get away from me — just like his mother couldn’t wait to get away to her dyke
professor.
I
didn’t feel like watching any of the game shows or sitcoms that are on TV
around seven, so I took a book out of my bag. We were reading Shakespeare in
freshman English, and I had to memorize a couple speeches from Macbeth. When I
looked after Jason a couple of nights before, we read them out loud to each
other. He was really good with the pronunciations and all the weird spellings.
But
tonight I couldn’t get into it, and I slapped the book on the coffee table. I
had all weekend to study, anyway, unless Eric called again.
Eric.
His hands and mouth would have been all over me by now. I could almost feel his
tongue on my nipples, licking me lightly, the way I love it. He worships my
tits. He’d bring a bottle of wine and a bag of grass, and I’d get so stoned
that he when he fucked me, my whole body would feel like the wake of a ship,
rolling apart slowly from that V between my legs. I imagine shit like that when
I’m high.
In
a minute my skirt was around my waist and my panties were down around my ankles.
I had two fingers up my cunt and my thumb on my clit, and I was feeling myself
under my bra. For a second, right before I came, I had this sudden fear Jason
might pop down and see me, but he was being very quiet upstairs. Too quiet. And
a hyper kid like that doesn’t shut himself in his room when the sun’s still
out. Unless —
Oh
yeah. Sure, that had to be it. This was going to be fun. I stood up, popped my
tits back into their B-cups and tugged my shirt down. I was too wet and sweaty
to pull my panties back up, so I kicked off my shoes and stepped out of them.
The panties, I mean.
It
was easy, in stocking feet on a carpeted stair, to sneak up on the little runt.
I wasn’t about to knock, but just before my hand touched the doorknob, I said,
really loud, just to scare him. “All right, Brainiac, what’s going on?”
“Nothing!”
he yelled — too loud, too fast.
His
bedroom is at the back of the house. The door opens onto a short hallway, and
the bed is around the corner. When I barged in all I saw was a bare elbow and
the white flash of a flying sheet.
By
the time I was all the way in, Jason was laying in bed with the covers all the
way up to his chin.
“What
are you up to?” I demanded in my sternest, watch-out-mister voice, which
doesn’t intimidate him at all.
“Nothing,”
he said again. “I’m trying to sleep.”
“The
heck you are,” I said. The unfoolable grownup. “You’re not tired at all. What
are you hiding under there?”
I
lifted the side of the bed covers.
“Nothing,”
he said a third time, this time whiny and insistent, like the tone of his voice
would make me go away.
“Come
on. We’re buddies. You can show me.”
I
could guess what he was hiding.
“I’m
fine,” he said. “I just want to go to sleep. I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
“Tell
me now.” I was finally starting to have fun on my dateless, fuckless Friday.
“Let’s go. Show me.”
I
yanked on the covers. He yanked back, hard. He was panicked, and it made him
strong. I put my back into it and dragged him to the edge of the bed, but he
held on to the sheets for dear life.
“Stop
it!” he pleaded.
“Not
till you show,” I said, lifting the covers high and trying to peek underneath.
“Come on, I won’t tell.”
Suddenly
the problem was simple. Instead of fighting him, I just let go, like you’d let
go in a tug-of-war. He fell back, the quilt and sheet flipped over his face,
and I was looking at the hairless, naked lower half of an eleven-year-old boy.
“Ooo,
what evil things were you up to?” I said, but I was smiling. Me, Eric, Mrs.
Becker, and now Jason — tonight, everybody had one thing on their mind.
I
lifted the covers off his face and flung them to the foot of the bed. Jason was
beaten, and he just gave up. He had been caught, and there was nothing he could
do now except lay there naked and let me look at him.
“You
won’t tell mom, will you?” he said.
“What,
that you’re hiding out naked in your room?”
“I
was just changing into my pajamas.”
“That’s
really lame,” I said. “You had your pajamas on when you came upstairs.”
“Come
on. Don’t tell.”
“You
can relax, genius. I won’t say anything. But you have to let me touch it.”
His
baby penis was soft and small, and it curled to one side. Either he couldn’t
get it up yet, or he had a hard-on and lost it when I caught him. I wanted to
find out.
“What,
for real?”
“Sure.”
“How
come?”
“Exactly,”
I said.
“Huh?”
“It’s
a joke,” I said. “Come on. I won’t hurt you.”
“Well
— all right,” he said. Like he had to think about it.
I
sat down next to him on the bed and laid my hand over his dick. It got hard
right away. It felt like a mouse squirming around under there. I wrapped my
fingers around it and traced circles with my thumb on the most sensitive part,
on the bottom where the shaft meets the head and makes that little arrow.
“You
like that,” I said.
He
relaxed all over, and the fear went out of his face. He started puffing through
his nose, and he looked at me all wide-eyed like he couldn’t believe what was
happening.
“You
have a nice cock,” I said. He did, too. It wasn’t long, but the knob at the top
had a nice flare, and the pole was thicker in the middle than at the bottom. He
had a brown circumcision scar, and the skin above it was pink.
“How
long has it been getting big and hard like this?”
“I
don’t know,” he said. “I think it looks stupid when it pokes out.”
“Yeah,
but that’s when it feels good, like right now.”
“I
think it’s bad,” he said.
“Why?”
“Well,
um, Saturday night I was rubbing it like you’re doing, and it felt really good.
But then this gooey white stuff came out.”
“Well,
that’s supposed to happen. They call that coming.”
“Why,
because the stuff comes out?”
“I
guess. Why is it bad?”
“Because
then it got sore, and I didn’t want to touch it anymore. I think I hurt
myself.”
“No.
That’s natural. Once you come, your penis gets tender, that’s all. It feels
good now, doesn’t it?”
“What’s
the white stuff?”
“That’s
semen, Jason. That’s how babies are made.”
“How?”
“God,
for a smart kid — Didn’t you mother tell you this stuff? When your penis gets
hard, you stick it in the woman’s vagina. You rub it in there, just like you
rubbed it with your hand, and the semen shoots out, and the woman gets
pregnant. Everybody does it. It’s called fucking.”
“A
boy at school said fucking is when you put your middle finger up a girl’s
separation.”
“Separation?”
“That’s
what he said.”
“That
separation is called a vagina, and using your finger isn’t real fucking. That’s
just finger-fucking.”
“Can
you get babies that way?”
“Of
course not.”
“Then
why do they do it?”
“Because
it feels good for the girl, like it feels when you touch yourself. Here, look.”
“You’re
not wearing underpants!”
“I
never wear underpants,” I teased him. Give the horny thing something to
fantasize about.
“Not
even in school?”
“Especially
not in school.”
I
wiggled onto the bed, sitting next to him with my back against the headboard
and my skirt up. Eric likes my body, but Jason was fascinated. He stared at my
bush like he was watching the earth from outer space.
“Haven’t
you ever seen a girl’s pussy?”
“Just
online,” he said.
“But
never for real? Put your hand over it like that.”
“It’s
all slimy.” He rolled over onto his hip while he felt me, trapping his dick
flat between his tummy and my bare thigh. The poor thing was hoping I wouldn’t
notice he was humping my leg.
“It’s
not slimy. It’s wet,” I said. “That’s what makes it easy for the man to put his
penis in. Take your finger like this—” I separated his middle finger from the
rest and put the tip against the entrance to my hole. “Now just push into it.
I’m really wet. It’ll go right in.”
And
it did.
“Ohhhhh.”
“You
OK?” he said.
“I’m
fine. I’m fine,” I said. “It’s sweet. Now take your thumb and press up near the
front, like this. Right there. That bump is called my clitoris, and it’s the
part that feels the best. That’s nice. See? Now you’re finger-fucking a girl.”
He
wasn’t bad at it, either. Not that it’s rocket science.
“Ooo,”
I said. “Ya know — mmm — if you want to hang out naked, you can do it
downstairs.”
“Really?”
“Sure,
I don’t mind. I’ll do it with you. Here.”
I
gave him a bad-girl grin, and I pulled my shirt over my head. His eyes really
did get bigger when he saw the bra. His fingers sped up in my pussy, too.
“Think
you can take it off?” I said.
No,
he couldn’t. Smart as he was, he wasn’t up to unhooking a bra strap with one
hand. I reached back and undid the hooks. I still had my socks on, and my skirt
was rolled up like a khaki-colored rope across my waist.
“You
have pretty boozers!” he said.
“What
do you sixth-graders think you’re talking about?” I said, giggling. “They’re
called boobs. Or tits. Touch them.”
He
couldn’t reach up while lying on his side with his hand in my pussy. I got him
to kneel on the bed, keeping his fingers up my cunt. His little-boy cock rested
on my hip.
“Go
ahead,” I told him.
He
poked my nipple, pressing it into the mound with one finger. Then he took his
hand away and it popped out again. He did this a couple of times before I
grabbed his wrist.
“It’s
not a fucking doorbell,” I said. “Look, open your hand like this and put it on
top.”
He
stroked my tit the way he’d pet a dog.
“That’s
better. Just like that. Now rub my cunt some more.”
“You
said the C word!”
“I’m
going to say a lot more.”
My
body was getting warm and loose under the soft fingers of this little boy.
“Mom
says milk comes out of a woman’s breasts. Do you have milk?”
“Why
don’t you suck it and find out?”
I
caressed the back of his head and drew him close.
“I’m
not a baby!” he protested.
“Yes
you are. You’re my baby. Put your mouth around it. Don’t bite. Take it in.”
“Shuttle
docking with the space station,” he said just before his lips surrounded my
nipple.
“You’re
such a geek, “ I said, reaching around and smacking his ass. But his mouth felt
wonderful. Moist and warm. His tongue grazed my nipple as he sucked, and I
could feel it — the nipple, I mean — getting bigger and harder. I stroked his
bare back, his bare butt.
“That’s
right, baby. Suck it. You’re my little baby boy. Clever little baby boy.”
I
reached down and guided another two of his fingers into my cunt and clamped the
heel of his hand against my clit. His fingers were thin but they filled me just
right.
“Do
that,” I said, my breath coming in short gasps. “Fuck my hole and rub my clit
and suck my tit and make me come.”
He
got the hang of it fast, banging me with his fingers and passing them over my
clit at the top of each stroke. Then he did something amazing: He kind of
jiggled his hand at the wrist. It must have been something he discovered when
he masturbated that one time. Wherever he learned it, it was fucking great —
like the vibrator Eric gave me.
He
took his mouth off my tit just long enough to say, “There’s nothing coming
out.”
He
meant milk from my tit.
“It’s
not coming out there,” I said. “It’s all coming out my pussy.”
“Milk
comes out of your pussy?”
“No,
you idiot. Pussy juice. Shut up and suck me.”
I
squeezed his fingers in my cunt and pulled his head back to my tit and arched
my back and threw up one arm over the headboard, clenching my fist, digging my
nails into the palm. Every muscle was tightening, winding up for the big
release.
“Fuck
me you little fucker you fucking little goddamn little fucking fucker oh god oh
god oh god oh shit goddamn oh fuck. Ahhhhhhhh!”
I
was louder than I usually am with Eric, but if it scared Jason, he didn’t show
it. His hand kept vibrating, and he kept sucking my tit while I came.
I
was half laughing, half gasping, rolling my eyes, astonished at how hard I was
coming, but finally my breath came back, and without a word, I grabbed little
Jason under the armpits and threw him down on the bed.
“All
right,” I said, trying to sound like the woman in charge. “You are about to
feel so fucking good, you little fucker.”
The
fear was back as he looked up at me. I was still hot, and there was something
in my eyes he didn’t recognize, like some kind of alien was controlling my mind
in those stupid videos he liked.
He
was holding his boner like a hammer.
“Let
go,” I told him. I jerked his arm, pulling his hand away. He tried to curl up
and clamp his knees together, but I slapped the insides of his thighs and got
them apart again.
“Just
hold still, baby,” I said. “You’re gonna like this.”
I
took his dick all the way in my mouth. Then I pulled back slowly, dragging my
tongue along his shaft. When his glans was almost out between my lips, I
tickled the sweet spot with my tongue, and I pulled down on his cock with my
fist— not jerking him off, just pulling on him so he could feel the skin
stretching at the top. I played with my cunt with my free hand, keeping those
good-good feelings on a low boil.
Yeah,
he liked it. He was looking at me like he couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t even
so much that it felt great — which I knew it did; I mean, I’m good at this —
but it amazed him a girl would even think of putting his cock in her mouth.
Kids wonder about sex, but I don’t think they imagine people really do it.
For
a second everything stopped. We were both quiet, staring into each other’s
eyes. His knob was half out of my lips like a Tootsie Pop. I slid my tongue
forward a tiny fraction of an inch — a micrometer, the boy spaceman would say —
and his cock gave that jerk that tells you it’s over. But I was faster than he
was, and I went all the way down on him before he went off. It was a good one,
one of my best. He’s got a nice-size practice cock. It’s just long enough to
reach into the top of my throat, and I timed my swallows just right. I got
every drop.
When
he was done, I pulled back slowly, and I held the knob between my lips for a
second before I let go. His dick came out of my mouth with a wet smack.
“Wow,
you’re a hot little fuck,” I said.
He
didn’t say anything. I couldn’t tell if he was still scared, but he was
definitely stunned. There were big red blotches all over his chest. I leaned
over and kissed his baby dick again.
“Now,
that didn’t hurt, did it?” I said, smiling at him over his cock-head.
“Uh
uh,” he said, dazed.
“Oh,
so it can talk.”
“Uh
huh.”
“But
it doesn’t say much. Now I know how to shut you up.”
He
smiled weakly.
“You’re
a treasure,” I said.
I
kissed him on the lips, got off the bed and smoothed out my skirt. Topless in
socks is not a bad look for a schoolgirl, I think, especially if the skirt is
slung low on your hips. I went to the bathroom and came back with a big fluffy
towel and a washcloth soaked with hot water and honeysuckle soap.
He
was just the way I left him, with his arms loose at his sides, his eyes closed
and his legs open. His penis had begun to soften, though it was still thick,
and it was starting to curl again. I washed my pussy juice off his hands, and
my spit off his prick. He went mmmm as the damp cloth warmed his balls.
“Jason,”
I said, “I want to do something else with you. Later, when we both feel like it
again. But you have to promise not to tell your mom.”
“I
promise,” he said, opening his eyes. “What is it?”
“It’s
a surprise, but I think you’ll like it.”
“As
much as the mouth thing?”
“That’s
up to you. All guys are different.”
I
dried his hands and his genitals with the fluffy towel and straightened up
beside the bed. He watched me lift my skirt and wash my pussy, and when I was
done, he rolled off the bed and wrapped his arms around me. He was just tall
enough to rest his head between my breasts.
“What
do you want to do until then, Brainiac?” I said.
He
looked up at me.
“I
don’t know,” he said. “Wanna watch Star Trek?”
Men!
So
we watched Star Trek. Or we started to.
We
were still standing next to Jason’s bed, with our arms around each other, and
Jason said, “Do I have to put my pajamas back on?”
“Not
if you don’t want to.”
“Are
you gonna get dressed?”
“Not
if you don’t want me to,” I said. “Should I take my skirt off?”
“If
you want to.”
“I
asked you.”
“I
don’t know.”
“Jason,
let me give you tip. When a girl asks if you want her to get naked, always say
yes. Take charge. Do you want me to get naked?”
“Yes.”
“Smart
boy.”
I
kissed him on the head and patted his tight little buns. Then I picked up my
shirt and bra, and when we got downstairs, I took off my skirt and socks and
stuffed everything into my overnight bag. I got out my bunny slippers, the ones
with the eyes in front and the pink noses at the tips, and the pink ears that
stand up. Eric says they’re ratty, but I like them because they’re warm. And he
gets to screw a teenager, so what is he complaining about?
Jason
noticed my panties where I left them in front of the sofa.
“You
said you didn’t wear underpants,” he said.
“I
had them on when I got here, “ I said. I picked them up and wadded them up in
my bag.
“How
come you took them off?” he asked.
“Because
I was horny and I wanted to play with my pussy,” I said. “Like you when you
play with your dick.”
The
tips of his ears turned red. My little bunny slipper.
I
told him to go to the basement and put the DVD in while I microwaved some
popcorn, but he had learned his lesson upstairs, and he wasn’t about to let a
naked girl out of his sight. We stood at the kitchen counter watching the bag
swell through the little window, making sure the popcorn didn’t burn. Jason
hung on my hip and pressed himself against me. When his penis gets soft, it
telescopes back into his body. All you can see is a pink-purple gumdrop with a
slit in it pointing down under his tummy.
“It
looks like the Apollo command module,” he said.
“Yes.
That’s exactly what it looks like. The Apollo command module. That’s the first
thing I thought of.”
I
tickled his balls in fun, ever so lightly, and his dick sprang to it full
length. In a year, this poor kid is going to be nothing but a hard-on with a
boy attached.
“Now
it’s the Saturn Five!” he said.
“It
kind of is,” I said. Maybe the Apollo thing wasn’t such a stupid simile.
I
filled a bowl with the hot popcorn and poured us a couple of cherry Kool-Aids,
Jason’s favorite, and we went downstairs, Jason’s hard dick pointing the way
like a weather vane. Jason’s dad built an office down the basement, but since
the divorce it’s been mostly a place for Jason to do his homework. He calls it
his la-BOR-a-tory, then he laughs like a mad scientist. He’s taken over the
desk with his computer and schoolbooks. The floor is cold black tile, but
there’s a tan carpet in the middle of the room and a blue, two-seater sofa
against one wall. Across from the sofa are the TV and the DVD player. There are
also three tall bookcases crammed with Jason’s books and some of his mom’s.
Jason
has only one thing you could call a toy — a stuffed dinosaur that he’s had
since he was small. His mother wanted him to get rid of it when he turned ten,
but he screamed like a baby when she tried to throw it away. It’s like me with
my slippers, something warm and soft he can’t give up.
I
put the popcorn and drinks down on the little black table in front of the sofa.
Jason squatted in front of the DVD player, putting in the disk. I walked up
behind him and kissed him low on his back, just above his ass. A big, wet,
open-mouth kiss, with a lot of tongue on his bare spine. It’s not fair to do
that to a grown man. Eric says it makes him weak, and I can only guess what it
does to a little kid. Jason slumped over, rattling the DVD in the open tray.
“Uhhhhhh,”
he said as he went down. “Oh, my God!”
I
peeked at his crotch, and yes, his prick was even bigger and harder now.
We
sat down together, and I covered us with the fuzzy blanket Mrs. Becker keeps
folded up on the back of the sofa. I put my arm around him, and he laid his
head in my armpit, just over on my tit. He folded his legs under him. It felt
good to be under the blanket with a warm body snuggled against mine, touching
me all down my side.
Jason
pointed the remote at the TV and pressed the start button. It was the one where
they go back in time to stop history from being changed, or something. Jason
said it was his favorite, but nothing like it could ever really happen.
“See,
if you go back and change history so you aren’t born, then you don’t exist and
you can’t go back and change history in the first place,” he said. “But then
you are born so you can go back. It’s like this never-ending loop. It’s called
a paradox.”
I
took hold of his penis under the blanket. That shut him right up.
“I’m
sorry, what’s it called again?” I said.
“What’s
what called?” he said.
“That
never-ending loop thing.”
“I
forget.”
“Suck
my tit like a baby,” I whispered to him.
“I’m
not a baby.”
“I
want you to be. Do it or I’ll take my hand away.”
I
pulled the blanket down and lifted him across my lap, supporting his head on my
arm. His lips were right under my nipple.
“Suck
it, Sweetie,” I whispered, and he went to work.
Start
Trek didn’t matter anymore.
In
one of the art books at my school, there’s a painting of the Madonna holding
the naked Baby Jesus in her lap. Her robe is off her shoulder, and one of her
tits is exposed. I like looking at it when I’m in the school library. It’s
sweet and sexy at the same time. The nuns think I’m being devout when I look at
it. They’d lock me in a cage if they knew what I was really thinking.
We
were like a living Madonna painting, me and Jason, except that I was pulling on
his stiff dick.
Both
of us were moaning. Jason’s voice buzzed through my breast. The vibration went
all the way down to my pussy.
I
had enough of being a Madonna.
“Wanna
do something else for me?” I said.
Jason
looked up at me with his lips still tight around my nipple.
“Mmmm?”
he asked.
“Lick
my pussy.”
My
tit popped out of his mouth.
“Gross!”
“It
is not gross.”
“It’s
all wet down there!”
“I
swallowed your junk, and I didn’t think it was gross,” I said. “Come on. If you
don’t like it, you can stop.”
Jason
slid off the sofa, dragging the blanket with him. He knelt between my open
legs, looked at my cunt close up, sniffed, and made a face like he had
swallowed a mouthful of sour milk.
“Put
your tongue up my hole, where you put your finger.”
He
stuck out his tongue as far as he could and held it rigid in a shiny pink cone.
“Wha’,
’ike thith?”
I
laughed out loud — loud enough that it would have ruined the mood with Eric.
But with Jason it was like playing a game.
I
lowered my voice to try to sound seductive again: “Just lick it from bottom to
top. Up. Yeah. Now go back down and ... up. Yeah. And ... ah.”
He
didn’t need me to talk him through it. In a few seconds he opened my hood and
was flicking his tongue across my bud.
“You
remember!” I said between gasps, pulling at my nips. “You ... remember
where it feels ... where it feels so ... so good... Mmmmmm. Uhh!”
He
licked me from my asshole to my clit with the full, broad flat of his tongue.
My cunt creamed over his chin. I could almost taste my own thick scent as I
breathed hard through my mouth.
Up
in his bedroom, with his fingers in me, my orgasm came from nowhere and slammed
me. But here, with his tongue, it built up slowly, and when it happened, it
went all through me, deep. It turned me inside out.
And
I still wanted more.
“Baby,
let’s do it,” I said.
I
took his face between my hands and guided him up, and I raised a foot to the
sofa cushion, opening my pussy for him.
“Here’s
your surprise. This is the best thing. This is real fucking.”
Jason
couldn’t say anything. Something he never even knew about was about to happen
to him, and he couldn’t find any words for it. I had to be the one in charge. I
pulled his face to mine, tasting my cunt on his mouth, and, reaching between
us, took hold of his cock and pointed it against my cunt.
“Now
just push with your butt.”
He
tried, but his dick slipped and knocked against my asshole.
“Did
I do it wrong?”
“It’s
OK, it’s OK,” I whispered. “It’s my fault.”
Jesus
Christ, I wanted to fuck.
I
slipped underneath him in small, quick jerks, twisting my hips and bouncing my
butt until I was flat on my back with him on top of me. I pulled up my knees,
cradling his little body between my thighs. His prick was poking at my clit. I
took hold of it again and moved it down so the head was knocking at the door.
“OK.”
I said, “Do it now.”
Suddenly
my cunt filled up.
“Oh
... shit, isn’t that great?”
“Yeah,”
he said. “God yeah.”
“Say
‘fuck yeah.’”
“Fuck
yeah.”
“Bet
you never felt anything like that.”
“Uh
uh.”
“You
do get quiet when you’re horny,” I said.
“Is
this gonna make you pregnant?”
“You
want me to have your baby? I could get all big and round, and my tits’ll swell
up and you can suck the milk out of them.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.
And we could tell your mom you’re gonna be a dad.”
That
scared him. He pulled right out.
“Don’t
worry,” I said. “It’s not gonna happen.”
“You
sure?”
“I’m
sure. Let’s get you back in.”
I
shouldn’t have teased him. It just made him nervous, and I had to go through it
all again, taking hold of him and guiding him into my pussy.
“How
do I do it?” he asked.
“Push
all the way in,” I said. “Now pull back. Not all the way. You don’t want to
fall out.”
He
did, until I could feel the ridge of his head spreading my lips apart.
“Now
in again, baby. That’s it.”
It
was cute the way he tried to be an expert lover. He went in slowly, like he
knew what he was doing, and mashed the base of his cock against my clit. I
crossed my bunny-slippered feet over his ass, locking him on top of me.
“Now
just do what feels good,” I said. “Move around.”
“Beth!”
The
little fucker learned fucking as fast as he learned cunt licking and fingering.
He knew what he liked — which was basically everything. He pushed and pulled.
He swung hips in a circle, thrusting at me from one side and then the other.
But
he’s a kid, and he doesn’t have much control. I could feel his dick twitch,
building up to come, too soon. I jammed my hand between us and squeezed the
base of his cock hard.
“Not
yet,” I said.
“What’s
the matter?”
“You
don’t want it to be over, do you?”
“Uh
uh.”
“OK,
now relax. Lay down on me.”
The
trembling in his dick went away after a few tense seconds. I took his face in
my hands again and kissed him. My tongue opened his lips, and his tongue met
mine. We kissed for a while, with his penis just stuck in me.
In
a little bit he could move again without losing it. This time he kept his penis
deep in me. He’s already figured out he would start coming if the slid his head
around too much.
I
took his full weight on my clit. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. When I felt
myself on the edge of coming again, I let him go at it.
“Do
what you want,” I said. “Move like you want. Come if you want. I don’t care.
Bang me, baby. Fuck it, boy.”
The
little fucker did, too. It felt kind of weird: He was so light on top of me,
and he didn’t have much power in his ass, but he was a man where it counted. My
little man. And I was so proud of him, the way he went at me, banging me hard
and fast as he could. I cried out every time her rammed me, like “Fuck
me fuck me fuck me!”
God,
I came. And somewhere through all my crazy babbling, I could hear Jason
grunting, too. He pulled out halfway, hovered there for a little bit, and then
his arms gave out. He collapsed on my tits, shoving all the way in one last
time, and filled me up with his come.
We
laid still. It took a long time to get our breath back. Jason’s buried his face
in my neck. I could feel him drooling while his penis went through its last
few, weak spasms. I put my legs down and jiggled my body, to see if I could
rouse him.
“You
like that, Sport?
“Mmm.”
“Better
than the mouth thing?”
“Uhhhhh.”
“You
want some Kool-Aid?”
“Muh.”
“You
want to watch TV?”
“Nnnnn.”
He
was far away, half asleep. Tired for real, finally. I didn’t have the heart to
move him, and I did like feeling his dick in me. I kissed his head of hair,
and, fumbling around next to the sofa, I found the blanket and pulled it over
us. As I was smoothing it out on Jason’s nude body, I glanced sideways at the
TV.
The
show was over, and the DVD menu was back up on the screen.
It
said, “Make next selection.”
© 2012 , 2016 by Jacqueline Jillinghoff