Page 20 of Falling for My Son's Best Friend
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Trent
It’s crazy, what we’re doing. The sex is crazy, the loving is crazy, and this woman is crazy and I fucking love it. Because for the past week, I’ve been sneaking up to Marie’s room each night, fucking the woman until she can’t breathe, can’t speak, delight shining from her eyes, her arms and legs clasped around me like the sweetest bonds.
And it’s amazing in every way, the way she shudders around me, taking me deep, the way she pants my name, screams it when she comes. Shit, I’m surprised we haven’t woken Robbie, the way we’re going at it for hours, non-stop, barely breaking between each session.
But Marie laughed lightly, a soft giggle that made my heart hum.
“My son’s a heavy sleeper,” she breathed softly, still hot from our last session. “I was really worried when he was younger that we’d have a fire and I wouldn’t be able to wake him.”
I studied her closely, that perfect peachy pout, the brown eyes still flooded with warmth, liquid in the aftermath of our loving. And I leaned forward to kiss her, to run my tongue against the seam of her lips, where my dick had just been moments before.
“Robbie’s always been like this?” I rumbled as she gasped. “So what did you do?”
And Marie panted a little, still breathless.
“I kept a cowbell by his bed,” she admitted. “One of those big ones that they sound a races to cheer on runners, the kind where the clanging can be heard from blocks away. That, and a megaphone,” she added. “I was so afraid that he wouldn’t wake up in case of fire that I stashed those by his bed for years, so I could get him up if there was an emergency.”
I grunted. That sounded about right. During my two semesters rooming with Robbie, he’d slept like a log, I’d fucked a couple girls in our dorm room while he snored, and the dude had never woken once, not when the girls cried out with lust, their small bodies shaking with orgasm as I dicked them deep.
And I guess this was a version of the same scenario. I was taking another female within spitting distance, except that this time the girl was his mom. It should have felt wrong, it should have felt incredibly criminal and disgusting, but it didn’t. Because somehow my hours with Marie were so fucking fantastic, fulfilling in every way, her sweet form milking me, pulsing around me, giving it up every which way that it felt absolutely right actually, like I was walking on air most times, hand in hand with my best girl. And I could tell Miz Sands felt the same way. We should have been ashamed at what we were doing, going like rabbits just a few doors down from her son, but instead it was good, there was sweetness and light, fireworks as our bodies met and exploded, desiring one another, savoring the loving that warmed us from within.
But this was different from my past fucks because Miz Sands wanted to get pregnant. So I was always careful to pull out now, to make sure she came hard with the dildo was lodged in her puss, the fat head bumping against her cervix. Because that’s how insemination works, evidently you can load that dildo with real sperm and shoot it in while she orgasms. So yeah, it’s a little weird. And I’m not sure how I feel about it. On the one hand, this is totally Marie’s business, it doesn’t matter what I feel, I’m a mere passerby, a dude here for a week, nothing more. It shouldn’t matter to me.
But it does. It feels like Marie’s biological clock is my own somehow, and I care about the woman, about her attempts to get pregnant, her desire for a baby so strong that she’s willing to consider the sperm of an anonymous donor. It still blows me away, to tell you the truth. I mean, how much can a piece of paper tell you about a donor? You have stats, sure, but numbers are just numbers. If you met the guy in person, you might decide within five minutes that he was a loser, even if he graduated from an Ivy League school and had an IQ of 200.
So yeah, I had my doubts about this donor shit. But I couldn’t say anything because ultimately, it wasn’t my call. I could only support Marie, help her with the inseminator, loosen her pussy, get her wet so that the dildo went in easy. And when the time came, she might even ask me to press the plunger, to spurt the semen into that warm channel, her sweet pussy fertile and hot, another man’s jizz doing its business.
So fuck me, but the situation was weird. I didn’t want to, I didn’t want to seed her with some other asshole’s jizz. I didn’t want Marie to be pregnant with some douche’s child. But it wasn’t my business either. I was a vacation guest, a flyover at best, teasing her body, using her, letting her use me for a week of fun, and nothing else. Fuck, I should have been floating on Cloud Nine, overjoyed at having no responsibilities, isn’t this what guys dream of? But instead I wasn’t. And I didn’t want to. Fuck fuck fuck. What a fucking disaster.
But to take my mind off this shit, to make it seem like this was a normal week out, I’d invited Robbie and Marie to a basketball game to show my appreciation. Yeah, it was just a D-league game, guys like me who wanted to make it to the majors someday, but no worries, it was gonna be fun in the stands, lots of people, cheering crowds, hot dogs and beer. And I wanted Marie to have a good time, wanted to see the brunette light up with excitement as she cheered on her local team, spending time with her beloved son … and me. So we piled into the car, Robbie in the driver’s seat, and sped to the stadium.
“Trent,” said the brunette, twisting around to make eye contact with me, shooting me a smile like we were in a normal carpool. “Tell me more about your baseball career.”
I grunted from the backseat. To be honest, there wasn’t that much to tell. When you’re on a club team, every day is a trial, you have to prove yourself again and again, it’s a ton of stress because any day, any minute, you could be cut and told to pack your bags and go home, dreams of playing ball over. But I didn’t want her to worry, didn’t want her to know about the cutthroat competition. So instead I was vague.
“It’s great,” I said smoothly. “We work out with the best coaches, the best trainers, the best everything, they oil and polish you until you’re a machine practically, not even human.”
And Marie giggled from the front seat.
“You sure?” she asked archly. “Some of those guys, going all the way back to Babe Ruth, definitely had human appetites.”
I grinned at her. Oh yeah, baseball players were dogs, absolutely, we’re dirty dudes who deserve the reputation.
“Yeah, we have a saying,” I started, with a sly smile of my own. “When you’re shit outta luck and the losing streak’s got no end, you’ve got to keep fucking ugly girls to make it stop. The uglier the better,” I added for emphasis.
“Hey hey hey!” sounded Robbie from the driver’s, mock glaring at me in the rearview mirror. “No language like that in front of my mom, this is my mom!”
Exactly, this was his mom and Marie was a whore and a cunt slut, taking my dick every which way. But yes, delicate and sensitive when I touched her pucker, how it contracted immediately, or when I ran my hand through her legs, how wet and trembly she was, shuddering at a mere light brush, a sweet butterfly touch. So I grinned at the brunette again, leaning back so Robbie couldn’t see.
“Sorry Miz Sands,” I ground out. “Too much time with the boys makes me lose my manners in front of a woman as beautiful as you.”
And she smiled back, making my heart pound, the blood rush to my head, my dick.
“No worries, Mr. Markham,” she said archly. “I get it, it’s a big world out there, and I’ve lived a little myself, believe it or not.”
Our eyes sizzled at each other, practically lighting a fire in the small car, but Robbie was completely oblivious. The possibility of anything between me and his mom was so farfetched, so impossible that he couldn’t see the signs even though they were right there. So we pressed it even further. After I slid into my seat at the stadium, Marie had to get by for some reason or other. And of course, the seats were stacked like legos, so tight, so close, to be almost interlocking.