“No overnight bag?” Steven’s disappointment barely registered. I was already unbuttoning my sundress.
“The kids think I’m out with the girls.” I let the dress slide from my shoulders to my ankles. The white lace bra followed a moment later. “I have to be back before they wake up.”
His parents were gone for the weekend, so we had the whole house to ourselves. No listening for Lori’s footsteps on my stairs, no threat of discovery, and he was wasting it talking about when I had to leave.
I hitched a thumb under the waistband of my satin panties and slid them down my thighs, where they joined the rest in a soft tangle.
In the dresser mirror, I admired the woman staring back. A mother’s body for sure, I caught the stark contrast of the tan lines around my hips, where my bikini barely hid the dark tuft between my thighs. I met Steven’s gaze in the glass, raised my eyebrows, and let my fingers drift slowly between my legs, letting him know where today’s lesson should begin.
The sleigh bed was massive, so I had to climb up before crawling across on hands and knees to reach him in the center.
Being here, in my neighbors’ bedroom, was surreal. Tom and I used to sneak into my parents’ room like this—giggling, careful to leave no evidence on the sheets. But Steven and I were sinfully messy, and about to add our own story to his mother’s duvet.
“I wish we could have a real date, Mrs. Jamason,” he said, his voice muffled against me as I tilted my hips to give him better access. His tongue flicked against my clit with that slow, circling pressure I’d taught him so well, making my fingers twist the sheets.
“Come on, Steven, you know why.”
“What if we met somewhere else? Somewhere no one knows us.”
“And what? I’d look like I’m having a candlelit dinner with my son.” But the longer his tongue circled, insistently closer to the edge, the less outlandish his proposition sounded. I pictured the dim corner booth at the place Tom and I liked across the bay…far from snooping eyes. I could almost feel his hand on my thigh under the table. Just as the image crystallized in my mind, his tongue found that perfect spot. I came with a soft cry, grateful I didn’t have to stifle it. Christ, the boy knows what he’s doing.
My fingers unclenched his hair, which he took as his cue to elaborate. “I could dress for it—so we’d blend in,” he murmured between kisses, working his way up my body. He licked my navel before pulling each nipple into his mouth, biting just hard enough to make me flinch.
I silenced his foolish talk of romance with a long, passionate kiss. I couldn't give him all he wanted, but I could give him this. My legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him into me.
Lowering himself to his elbows above me, his tongue filled my mouth. He only broke the embrace to hook his arm under my knee, opening me wider, so he could watch his shaft disappear into me. A moan escaped my lips. “Fuck yes, Steven.” He needs to be satisfied with what he has.
“You know…Bea,” his voice was halting and tense.
I opened my mouth to correct him, “Mrs. Jama…” but stopped myself. “Yes, Steven?” I breathed, leaving the question hanging, intrigued by where this sudden earnestness was coming from. “Go on...”
“When we make love, I fantasize…” He began, cock buried inside me, as it had been so many times this summer—only Tom had been with me more often.
We never spoke of ‘making love’ before, and he sure as hell never dared use my first name. Because we were in his house now?
I felt his familiar quiver, the sign he was holding back until I gave permission. “Tell me, Steven, what do you fantasize about?” I asked, suspecting he’d confess his love or beg me to leave my husband—anything but what he said next.
“I picture your belly swelling... with my child.”
“Are you out of your mind?” I gasped, twisting away even while clasping tighter around him. The notion was ludicrous, but it triggered a maternal ache I hadn’t felt in years. The condom I tossed aside that first night—a reckless dare. He couldn’t know I was past having children, could he? A married woman. His best friend’s mother. THAT was the crux of his fantasy all along, wasn’t it? I stopped struggling, embracing his impossible delusion as my own.
Foot wedged on the footboard, he thrust relentlessly, driving me into the headboard, making the wood bang against the wall. “Go ahead, Steven,” I moaned, the words echoing across the room, startling me as much as they fueled him. I felt him shudder, lose his rhythm, then resume with distinct purpose. “Do it. Seed me.”
When he finally did, the hot rush wasn’t just his; it didn’t just fill my pussy, but my womb. Heat washed over my skin, and the room dissolved. The huge bed vanished. I was back in that cramped apartment with Tom, the scratchy wool blanket we used as a bedspread tickling my ass. That same profound spark burned in my belly again. Christ. How long ago was that? How old is Brian now?
