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 flutter 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 turn eighteen, 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 a hot tub in the room 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 flipped the phone shut and groaned in frustration, pulling my skirt up and pressing my hand firmly 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, pleated 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 feel his tongue on my nipples, licking me oh so lightly, the way I love it. 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 few minutes my skirt was up around my waist and my panties were down around my ankles. I was working my cunt and feeling myself under my bra when I heard something creak upstairs. It only happened once, and it didn’t sound like anything serious, so I went back to playing with myself. Then it happened again, two or three times.

It had to be Jason jumping on his bed. I should have finished getting off, but he was distracting me, and I was pissed he had lied to me about being tired. 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.

There was no mistaking the noise as I went up the stairs. 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 on a little 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.”

“You were jumping on the bed,” 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 were jumping around with no clothes on?”

“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.

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 — 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.”

“I wanna see the rest of you,” he said.

“Sure!”

Grinning, my eyes shut, I pulled my shirt over my head.

“That enough?” I sighed.

“No! Come on. Take everything off.”

“You learn fast. You think you can do it?”

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 thigh.

“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.”

It wasn’t rocket science. 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 shook his hand violently 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, fist clenched, nails digging into my 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 wailing like a police siren — louder than I do with Eric. If it scared Jason, he didn’t show it. His hand kept vibrating, and he kept sucking my tit while I came over and over.

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 really going to like this.”

I devoured his dick. I took it 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.

Then for an instant everything stopped. We were both quiet, rigid, 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 a stream of hot come shot out of his prick.

I jacked him, opening my mouth to let him see how good the creamy white stuff was. The first shot skimmed my face and dropped on his body in a thick streak from his belly button to his neck. I took the second squirt on my tongue and let it drizzle down my chin. For the last few twitches, I bent over and held his prick against tits. A drop of jizz hung from my nipple, and I straightened up to let him watch me rub it in. There were big red splotches on his chest.

“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. I leaned over and licked his penis clean.

“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.”

“You got it all over your face.”

“I like it there. And you got it on you, too.” I swept the come from his body and added it to the stuff on my boobs.

“Okay, Baby,” I said, “I’m gonna go get a towel. You just lay there and enjoy it, OK? You don’t have to move.”

He nodded weakly.

“You’re a treasure.”

I kissed him on the lips, leaving a shiny smear of semen on them, 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, laying 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 wiped his face and body, working gently toward his genitals. He mmmm-ed with pleasure when the damp cloth warmed his little balls.

“Jason,” I said, “I want to do something else with you. A little 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?”

“Well, that’s up to you. All guys are different.”

I dried him with the fluffy towel and straightened up beside the bed. Jason watched me wipe my face and boobs with the washcloth. His dick was tiny again, and at last he found the strength to prop himself up on his elbows. I lifted my skirt and wiped my pussy, and when I was done, he jumped off the bed and threw 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. Why were you jumping on your bed naked?”

The tips of his ears turned red. My little bunny slipper.

“No reason.”

“Spill it.”

“My penis got big, and I was flipping it up and down.”

“That’s a new one.”

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 over to 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 onto his side, 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 his body snuggled against mine, touching me everywhere 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, closing his eyes.

“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 rolling my hand in circles over 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 got your junk all over my face, 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.

“How do I do it?”

“Just move around. Do what feels good. Push it all the way in.”

He did, until the base of his cock was mashing my clit.

“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.”

He crammed it in. I crossed my bunny-slippered feet over his ass, locking him on top of me.

“Now I got you. Push it, baby, push it in.”

“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 gently for a while, and his penis just laid in me, motionless.

In a little bit he could start moving again without losing it. This time he kept his penis deep in me. He figured out that 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.”

He went at me fast. I cried out in sync with his thrusts: “Fuck me fuck me fuck me!” In on fuck! Out on me! In on fuck! Faster, faster. “Fuck me fuck me!”

Mother of God in heaven, how I came! And somewhere through all my crazy babbling, I could hear Jason grunting, too. He pulled out halfway, hovered for an instant, and then his arms gave out. He collapsed on my tits, shoving all the way in one last time, and filled up my cunt with 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.”

The End

© 2012 by Jacqueline Jillinghoff